ANN      WARNER 


HOW   LESLIE   LOVED 


HOW 
LESLIE  LOVED 


Author  of  "The  Rejuvenation  of  Aunt  Mary,"  "Susan 
Clegg,  Her  Friends  and  Her  Neighbors,"  etc. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY  A.  B.  WENZELL 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1911, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPAKT. 


All  rights  reserved 
Published,  February,  1911 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  LESLIE  AND  HER  LONELINESS.     ...  1 

II.  LESLIE  AND  CAPTAIN  GLENGABTT     .    .  11 

III.  LESLIE  AND  A  PRIORY 22 

IV.  LESLIE  AND  THE  ACROSTIC      ....  33 
V.  LESLIE  AND  THE  AFTER-DINNER  HOUB  42 

VI.  LESLIE  AND  THE  MOTOR 52 

VII.  LESLIE  AND  ANOTHER  MAN     ....  64 

VIII.  LESLIE  AND  HER  DOUBTS 73 

IX.  LESLIE  GOES  DOWN  TO  KENELM  ...  85 

X.  LESLIE  AND  THE  MAN  AND  THE  HEN   .  103 

XL  LESLIE  AND  MAURICE 120 

XII.  LESLIE  AND  HER  ENGAGEMENT    .     .     .  132 

XIII.  MERRY  CHRISTMAS 147 

XIV.  THE  DAY  AFTER 161 

XV.  LESLIE  AND  THE  LAST  OF  KENELM  .    .  170 

XVI.  LESLIE  GOES  FORTUNE  HUNTING  .     .     .  178 

XVII.  LESLIE  SAYS  GOODBYE 188 

XVIII.  LESLIE  PARTS  WITH  MAURICE      .    .    .  200 

XIX.  LESLIE  AND  A  REAL  SCHLOSS  207 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

XX.  LESLIE  AND  A  LIVE  HUSSAR  ....  219 

XXI.  LESLIE  DINES 225 

XXII.  LESLIE  CHANGES  HER  PLANS      .    .     .  238 

XXIII.  LESLIE  GOES  TO  KOPDOBP 249 

XXIV.  LESLIE  DEVELOPS  IN  MANY  WAYS  .     .  259 
XXV.  LESLIE  MEETS  FRIENDS 276 

XXVI.  Au  REVOIB  .  .  283 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

She  buried  her  face  in  his  shoulder  and  cried 

quite  a  few  tears     ......      Frontispiece 

At  that  Lady  Rillingham  examined  the  acrostic 

more  closely Page  35 

Between  silver  braid  and  top-boots  with  spurs 

it  was  a  brilliant  sight "  229 


HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

CHAPTER  I 

LESLIE  AND  HER  LONELINESS 

LESLIE  was  lying  alone  in  the  dark.  She  had  given 
the  theatre  tickets  to  Mrs.  Snellgrove  and  told  her 
to  get  some  one  —  any  one  —  and  go.  She  was  far 
too  wretched  to  dream  of  going  to  the  theatre  herself. 
She  had  such  a  heartache  as  she  had  never  known 
before.  Her  heart  was  a  particularly  active  heart 
and  much  given  to  violent  emotions  of  all  descrip- 
tions, but  a  pain  like  the  present  one  was  new  to  it. 
It  hurt  her  physically.  It  was  a  real  heartache  — 
her  first  real,  absolute,  impossible-to-ever-get-over, 
heartache.  It  was  so  terrible  that  it  had  made  the 
idea  of  going  out,  and  perhaps  forgetting  it,  com- 
pletely revolting.  Leslie  had  no  intention  of  recover- 
ing from  her  grief;  she  knew  now  that  she  loved 
him  just  by  her  agony,  and,  although  they  had 
parted  forever,  still  she  would  love  him  and  him 


2  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

alone  till  she  died.  No,  no !  No  theatre  for  her  this 
evening;  she  hadn't  considered  going  even  for  a 
second. 

She  was  very  quiet  there  in  the  dark,  staring  up- 
ward. Oh,  it  was  awful  to  suffer  so !  It  passed  tears ; 
she  could  not  shed  one.  To  think  of  all  the  men 
who  would  have  gone  to  any  amount  of  trouble  to 
make  her  only  a  little  happy,  and  Hugo  Guilford  — 
whom  she  loved  —  had  been  willing  to  break  her 
heart  like  this!  He  was  so  brutal,  he  was  so  cruel, 
he  was  so  jealous,  he  was  so  unreasonable,  he  was  so 
unbearable,  he  was  so  selfish,  he  was  so  all  things 
that  he  should  n't  be ;  and  now  she  was  never  going 
to  see  him  again.  And  those  were  such  good  seats, 
too;  Mrs.  Snellgrove  had  rushed  to  the  telephone  at 
once  and  secured  Mrs.  Batt.  They  two  would  just 
revel  in  George  Alexander  and  his  perfections,  while 
Leslie  —  who  was  herself  very  fond  of  George  Alex- 
ander because  he  always  reminded  her  of  a  delightful 
man  whom  she  had  once  met  on  the  ocean  —  was 
there  alone  hi  the  dark,  steeped  in  woe.  It  was 
awful ! 

She  had  come  to  bed  very  early,  and  it  was  now 
barely  nine  o'clock.  She  could  hear  the  butler  put- 
ting letters  on  her  sitting-room  table.  How  strange 


LESLIE  AND  HER  LONELINESS          3 

it  was  to  be  so  miserable  that  one  did  n't  want  to 
read  letters.  Letters  might  come  and  come,  and 
she  would  never  care  who  they  were  from  again. 
Invitations  which  once  would  have  filled  her  with  joy 
would  now  be  a  matter  of  utter  indifference.  She 
never  would  take  any  more  interest  in  shopping. 
She  never  would  buy  that  tea-gown  at  Liberty's 
now.  At  least  she  might  buy  the  gown,  but  she  would 
never  take  any  pleasure  in  wearing  it.  She  would 
never  take  any  more  pleasure  in  wearing  anything. 

The  idea  of  not  taking  any  more  pleasure  in  wear- 
ing her  gowns  did  for  Leslie  that  which  we  are  given 
to  understand  somebody  or  something  must  do  for 
any  one  whose  grief  is  too  deep  for  tears,  —  it  brought 
them  forth  freely.  She  had  to  turn  on  the  light  and 
get  up  for  a  handkerchief,  and  then — as  she  was 
up  —  it  seemed  silly  not  to  go  in  and  look  at  her  mail. 
Leslie  was  never  silly.  She  had  some  soft,  pleasantly 
woolly  slippers  on  her  feet;  and  her  blue  dressing- 
gown,  lined' with  white  silk  and  with  its  sleeves  turned 
back  by  big  crushed  bows,  lay  close  by  on  a  chair. 
She  wiped  her  eyes  and  then  put  on  the  gown;  she 
looked  so  sweet  hi  the  gown  that  a  sort  of  lofty  pity 
for  Hugo  who  would  never,  never  see  her  in  a  dress- 
ing-gown filled  her  soul.  The  sentiment  seemed  to 


4  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

give  her  quite  a  bit  of  fortitude  and  a  certain  cour- 
ageous determination  towards  the  future.  She  went 
into  the  sitting-room. 

The  butler  was  very  stupid  and  had  left  all  the 
lights  exactly  as  if  she  might  come  in  at  any  minute. 
The  letters  were  ranged  neatly  in  a  row  upon  the 
center-table.  The  fire  was  burning  brilliantly.  It 
looked  for  all  the  world  as  if  he  had  not  at  all  under- 
stood that  his  mistress  was  henceforth  and  forever 
blighted.  He  was  very  stupid. 

Leslie  sat  down  hi  the  easy-chair  nearest  the  fire 
and  proceeded  to  look  over  her  letters.  There  were 
none  from  Hugo,  but  that  was  not  surprising  for 
several  reasons,  of  which  the  two  most  weighty  were : 
first,  that  he  had  not  been  out  of  the  house  two  hours 
yet,  and  second,  that  he  never  wrote  letters.  She 
took  up  a  paper-cutter  and  began  to  open  the  envel- 
opes with  a  heavy  sigh.  Some  were  notes.  A  good 
many  were  invitations.  One  was  from  Mrs.  Lewes, 
for  Christmas.  "A  real  English  Christmas,"  Mrs. 
Lewes  —  who  was  an  American  —  said  artfully. 
There  is  nothing  so  attractive  to  a  real  American  in 
England  as  to  be  promised  something  really  English. 
Leslie,  who  was  a  real  American,  felt  this  keenly. 
She  did  n't  know  Mrs.  Lewes  very  well,  but  she 


LESLIE  AND  HER  LONELINESS  5 

thought  her  invitation  sounded  delightful.  She  was 
conscious  of  a  cheerful  uplift.  "I  suppose  there  will 
be  waits  and  things,"  she  murmured  to  herself. 
("Waits  and  things"  was  her  idea  of  "a  real  Eng- 
lish Christmas.")  Then  she  remembered  Hugo  and 
held  the  invitation  in  her  hand  for  some  time,  con- 
sidering what  he  would  have  said  to  it  had  he  still 
had  anything  to  do  with  her  life.  It  was  freshly 
borne  in  upon  her  how  dreadful  it  was  to  think  that 
he  was  gone.  She  winked  very  hard  indeed  there,  but 
rallied  presently  and  took  up  the  next  missive.  It 
was  also  an  invitation,  and  this  invitation  was  even 
more  delightful  than  the  other,  for  it  was  to  a  genu- 
ine English  country-house.  The  baronet  hadn't 
married  any  Pittsburgh  heiress,  and  there  was  no 
United  States  veneer  anywhere  about  the  note. 
Leslie  had  met  Lady  Rillingham  at  a  mutual  friend's, 
and  been  properly  and  conventionally  introduced, 
had  seen  "quite  a  bit"  of  her  since,  and  now  was 
being  absolutely  invited  to  stay  there  —  at  the 
Priory  —  next  week. 

Of  course  she  wanted  to  accept  dreadfully.  Every- 
thing else  went  out  of  her  head  hi  the  absorbing 
thought  of  actually  visiting  in  a  priory.  But  she 
was  worried  about  the  cold.  She  knew  something  of 


6  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

English  homes  and  their  brightly  beaming  open 
fires,  and  she  was  nervous  over  freezing  to  death. 
It  came  to  her  also  that  Hugo  might  have  objected 
to  her  going  down  there  on  account  of  Waltheof 
Rillingham,  the  son  of  the  house ;  but  she  was  most 
afraid  of  suffering  from  cold.  Of  course  she  was 
still  in  love  with  Hugo  and  still  anxious  not  to  enrage 
him  any  more  even  if  they  had  parted  forever.  He 
enraged  slowly,  but  when  he  did  it,  he  did  it  with 
terrible  effect,  and  he  was  mad  enough  now,  good- 
ness knew. 

Leslie  sighed  and  wiped  away  another  tear.  Then 
she  became  suddenly  aware  of  being  ravenously 
hungry.  She  had  eaten  no  dinner  owing  to  the  inten- 
sity of  her  grief,  so  her  hunger  was  but  natural. 
She  rang  at  once. 

"Lapham,"  she  said,  when  the  butler  came,  "I 
wish  you  'd  go  to  Cook  and  get  just  the  nicest 
supper  you  can  for  me,  —  some  of  that  cold  pheasant, 
and  some  hot  chocolate  and  —  oh,  she'll  know,  - 
and  bring  it  here,  and  I'm  'Not  at  Home'  to  callers, 
you  know." 

The  butler  hurried  away  to  obey.  Leslie  poked  the 
fire,  and  it  blazed  up  most  pleasantly.  She  looked 
again  at  Lady  Rillingham's  letter. 


LESLIE  AND  HER  LONELINESS  7 

"I  do  wonder  whether  I  could  stand  it!"  she  said, 
and  frowned  a  very,  very  little.  "I  suppose  I'd 
surely  freeze;  one  always  does."  She  stopped  sud- 
denly, becoming  aware  of  the  frown,  and  quickly 
rubbed  it  smooth  with  her  finger-tip.  (For  she  had 
no  intention  of  wasting  away  in  wrinkles,  even  if 
Hugo  didn't  love  her.)  "And  yet  I'd  like  so  much 
to  go,  if  I  thought  that  I  could  stand  it." 

There  was  a  pause.  She  contemplated  the  fire, 
and  poked  it  a  little.  She  looked  down  at  her  blue 
slippers  and  re-tied  the  bow  on  one.  When  she 
straightened  up  from  re-tying  the  bow  her  cheeks 
were  pink  and  a  lock  of  hair  was  out  of  place.  Per- 
haps her  color  came  from  her  labor,  or  perhaps  from 
a  change  in  the  current  of  her  thought.  The  current 
of  her  thought  was  very  apt  to  change,  and  when  it 
did,  it  generally  set  strongly  in  the  new  direction. 
The  new  direction  at  this  instant  was  the  recollection 
that  one  of  the  envelopes  appeared  to  have  been 
addressed  by  the  Grafin  von  Morgenlicht.  She  was 
very,  very  fond  of  the  Grafin  von  Morgenlicht,  and 
it  came  to  her  that  the  Schloss  of  the  Grafin  was  on 
the  Continent,  that  place  whither  Hugo  had  declared 
himself  to  be  bound  the  very  next  day.  If  she  were 
to  be  invited  to  Morgenlicht  all  things  were  possible. 


8  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

The  Continent  is  such  a  pleasant  rendezvous,  espe- 
cially for  those  who  desire  to  meet  unexpectedly. 
The  world  is  so  small  that  an  eloping  couple  may 
meet  the  husband  anywhere,  but  the  Continent  is 
so  small  that  a  lady  may  meet  a  man  everywhere. 
Leslie  knew  her  Continent  well.  She  knew  that  she 
could  hardly  float  over  its  face  without  seeing  again 
him  who  had  vanished  completely  out  of  her  life.  Oh, 
how  lovely  it  would  be  to  see  him  again !  The  Grafin 
had  been  begging  for  a  visit  for  ever  so  long;  she 
could  cross  to  Calais,  just  have  a  day  or  two  in  Paris 
and  a  few  hours  in  Monte  Carlo,  get  to  North  Ger- 
many in  a  week  or  so,  and  it  would  n't  be  but  a  little 
out  of  the  way  (Hugo  always  went  to  Monte  Carlo). 
Leslie  now  opened  the  Grafin's  letter,  which  was 
in  English  and  eight  pages  long.  It  was  a  dear  letter 
and  overflowing  with  affection  and  sweet  German 
cordiality.  It  was  just  what  she  wanted.  Both  the 
Grafin  and  her  Mann  desired  Leslie  to  set  her  own 
date  and  stay  as  long  as  she  could  —  if  she  could 
stand  the  rigor  of  life  in  a  castle's  winter.  The  Grafin 
went  on  to  say  that  in  Lent  they  were  going  to  Berlin 
and  hoped  that  she  might  accompany  them.  At  the 
end  they  let  themselves  greet  her,  and  hoped  soon  to 
see  her,  and  said  other  charming  things,  and  then 


LESLIE  AND  HER  LONELINESS  9 

came  the  signature,  and  that  was  all  there  was 
of  it. 

If  the  other  two  invitations  had  overlaid  her  grief 
with  a  quadruple  plating  of  joy,  this  last  filled  her 
cup  of  happiness  to  the  brim.  Hugo  was  as  much 
addicted  to  Berlin  as  to  Monte  Carlo,  and  even  if  he 
was  n't  there  she  knew  a  lot  of  other  men  who  were. 
Her  spirits  were  mounting  rapidly  now  and,  when 
the  butler  brought  the  tray  and  while  she  was  con- 
suming everything  on  it,  she  was  conscious  of  that 
ability  to  rise  above  misfortune  which  is  one  of  the 
most  striking  evidences  of  a  truly  great  character. 

"I'll  try  and  manage  to  get  to  Brussels  and  get 
two  or  three  more  hats,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she 
poured  out  the  last  drop  of  chocolate,  "and  I'll  write 
the  Countess  that  I'll  come  the  first  week  in  Febru- 
ary, or  maybe  I  can  get  there  in  January ;  let  me  see ! " 

She  finished  her  chocolate  and  pushed  away  the 
tray.  The  fire  felt  so  delicious.  So  did  the  supper. 
After  all  it  would  be  silly  to  submit  to  have  one's 
life  crushed  by  a  man  as  harsh  and  unfeeling  and 
altogether  unworthy  as  Hugo  Guilford.  Leslie  was 
never  silly.  And  then,  too,  no  one  man  can  possibly 
crush  the  life  of  a  woman  who  knows  a  lot  of  other 
men. 


10  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"And  I  know  such  a  lot  of  other  men,"  she  re- 
flected with  deep  satisfaction;  "oh,  I  know  such  a 
lot  of  other  men.  It's  that  that  makes  him  so  mad. 
And  I  don't  know  what  right  he  has  to  object  to  my 
knowing  so  many  other  men.  He's  never  asked  me 
to  marry  him.  If  he  had,  he'd  see." 

All  of  which  was  indubitably  true. 


CHAPTER  II 

LESLIE  AND  CAPTAIN  GLENGABTT 

SHE  began  to  pack  for  the  Priory  almost  at  once. 
Rose  and  Mrs.  Snellgrove  really  did  all  the  actual 
work  of  her  life,  but  Leslie  played  the  title  r61e  even 
when  not  on  the  stage.  Consequently  when  Captain 
Glengarty  came  to  tea,  having  been  invited  four  days 
previous,  she  felt  interrupted  and  was  therefore 
annoyed. 

"But  you  asked  me,"  protested  the  captain. 

"Oh,  dear,  did  I  really?"  said  Leslie.  "What 
could  I  have  been  thinking  of,  I  wonder ! " 

"What  have  I  interrupted?"  asked  the  captain. 

"My  packing." 

"But  nobody  ever  packs  hi  London.  The  ser- 
vants pack." 

Leslie  poured  the  tea  and  gave  him  his  as  her 
contribution  to  the  conversation  for  the  moment. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  the  captain  asked,  look- 
ing to  see  if  she  had  put  in  sugar. 


12  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"I'm  going  to  visit  friends." 

"Where?" 

"It's  Sir  Edward  Rillingham's.  I  don't  know  just 
where.  We  have  n't  looked  it  up  yet." 

"Has  he  a  son?" 

"Yes;  how  did  you  guess?" 

"How  old  is  he?" 

"I  don't  know.  He  can  just  remember  every- 
thing that  I  can't." 

"How  extremely  trying  for  you." 

Leslie  looked  doubtfully  at  Captain  Glengarty. 
"Are  you  making  game  of  me  because  I'm  an 
American?" 

"My  dear  lady,  I  should  n't  dream  of  making 
game  of  you  because  you  are  an  American." 

Leslie  looked  at  him  again,  —  more  doubtfully  still, 
this  tune. 

"I  suppose  that  they'd  like  you  to  marry  the  son?" 
hazarded  the  captain. 

"Oh, "dear,  no!  Why  they've  never  thought  of 
such  a  thing." 

"How  well  you  must  read  minds!" 

Leslie  felt  foolish,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was 
never  silly. 

"What  an  open  countenance  the  man  must  have," 


LESLIE  AND  CAPTAIN  GLENGARTY     13 

the  captain  continued ;  "  but  not  very  interesting,  I 
should  imagine." 

" Don't  you  want  another  bit  of  cake?"  Cake  is 
always  a  safe  bit  of  repartee. 

"Thank  you,  no.  And  so  you  're  going  down  in  the 
country?" 

"I  don't  know  which  way  it  is." 

"There's  only  one  up  in  England,  and  that's 
London." 

"Oh!" 

"Is  it  a  castle?" 

"No,  it's  a  priory." 

"Fancy!"    The  captain  smiled  obtrusively. 

"What  makes  you  laugh?" 

"  I  did  n't  laugh ;  I  was  merely  amused  over  the 
notion  of  a  priory's  opening  its  gates  to  a  woman." 

"It's  very  old,"  said  Leslie.  "Alfred  the  Grecit 
built  it,  and  Henry  VIII  gave  it  to  their  ancestors." 

"You  seem  to  have  studied  your  subject." 

"It's  in  ever  so  many  books.  It's  historic.  They 
have  ivy  and  a  chapel,  and  the  ghost  of  a  real  priest 
performs  mass  in  the  chapel,  sometimes." 

"I  don't  believe  that,"  said  Glengarty. 

"It's  true,  anyhow.  Everybody  doesn't  see  him. 
Only  a  few  see  him.  I  hope  I'll  see  him." 


14  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"How  long  are  you  to  be  there?" 

"A  week." 

"And  then?" 

"Then  I'm  coming  back  here  for  a  few  days,  and 
then  I'm  going  away  again  —  to  a  real  English 
Christmas." 

"Who  is  to  have  it?" 

"A  friend  of  mine,  Mrs.  Lewes;  I  don't  believe 
you  know  them.  They  live  in  Regent  Park." 

"How  did  they  get  permission  to  build  there?" 

Leslie  looked  at  him  in  great  disgust. 

"Who  are  they,  anyhow?'*  asked  Captain  Glen- 
garty. 

"They're  American.  It's  Mrs.  Frederick  Lewes 
—  and  her  husband,  of  course.  I  met  them  last  sum- 
mer. They  're  very  hospitable  and  know  loads  of 
people." 

"It's  easy  to  know  loads  of  people  if  you're  very 
hospitable.  But,  tell  me,  where  is  this  real  English 
Christmas  to  be?" 

"At  Kenelm." 

"Where's  that?" 

"I  don't  know;  we  haven't  looked  it  up  yet." 

"  What  makes  you  *  go  away  for  Christmas  — 
Christmas  is  jolly  in  town?" 


LESLIE  AND  CAPTAIN  GLENGARTY     15 

"But  I  want  to  see  a  real  English  Christmas. 
I've  seen  Christmas  in  France  and  Christmas  in 
Germany,  and  now  I  want  to  see  what  a  real  Eng- 
lish Christmas  is  like.  Mrs.  Lewes  says  that  they're 
going  to  have  a  real,  genuine,  old-fashioned,  English 
Christmas." 

"Have  they  a  nice  place?" 

"Oh,  they  haven't  a  place  at  all;  they're  going 
to  have  it  in  an  inn." 

"In  an  inn!"  Glengarty's  face  bespoke  great 
astonishment. 

"Yes." 

"  Christmas  hi  an  inn ! "   His  tone  was  indescribable. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?" 

"Nothing.  Only,  the  idea  of  a  party  of  Americans 
having  a  real,  genuine,  old-fashioned,  English  Christ- 
mas in  an  inn  struck  me  for  the  second  as  being  most 
—  most  American." 

"They'll  do  it  very  well,"  said  Leslie  haughtily. 
"They're  awfully  rich." 

"Also  an  American  way  of  doing  and  being,"  said 
Glengarty.  "Oh,  doubtless  you'll  be  very  happy 
with  them." 

"I'll  be  warm,  at  any  rate,"  said  Leslie  defiantly. 
"They  're  American,  and  so  they'll  be  warm." 


16  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  captain. 

"And  there'll  be  waits  and  things,"  said  Leslie. 
"I  've  always  been  reading  about  the  English  waits." 

"  Waits  and  things ! "  laughed  the  captain.  "  Waits 
and  things !  But  tell  me,  if  you  survive,  what  do  you 
mean  to  do  after  Christmas?" 

"I  'm  coming  back  here  for  a  few  days,  and  then 
I  'm  going  abroad." 

"Where?" 

"To  visit  my  friend  Grafin  von  Morgenlicht." 

"In  Germany!" 

"In  Germany!  Gr&ftn,  you  know." 

"She  might  have  a  villa  at  Nice." 

"Oh,  to  be  sure." 

"Where  does  she  live?" 

"I  don't  just  know;  we  must  look  that  up,  too. 
But  it 's  an  awfully  old  castle.  I  think  Peter  the 
Great  visited  there  —  or  Frederick  the  Great,  I  don't 
really  remember  which." 

"  If  it 's  hi  North  Germany  you  '11  find  it  very  cold ; 
they  hunt  hares  hi  the  snow  there  all  winter  long." 

"Well,  I  have  n't  to  hunt  hares  if  I  don't  want  to." 

"Naturally  not;  but  I  suppose  you  know  about 
life  in  a  German  castle.  One  sheet,  and  the  feather- 
bed on  top  of  you." 


LESLIE  AND  CAPTAIN  GLENGARTY      17 

"I've  always  had  two  sheets  in  Germany/'  said 
Leslie  angrily. 

"And  do  look  out  for  the  spiders;  have  your  maid 
investigate  everything  every  morning  before  you  put 
it  on.  The  castle  spiders  of  Germany  have  a  trick 
of  going  to  rest  hi  one's  bed-slippers.  That 's  the 
country  where  the  woods  are  full  of  winged  spiders, 
and  when  they  get  on  you,  you  may  pull  off  the 
wings,  but  you  can't  possibly  pull  off  the  spiders,  you 
know." 

"I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,"  said  Leslie. 

"How  long  are  you  going  to  stay  there?" 

"I  don't  know,  maybe  a  fortnight." 

"And  then?" 

"I  'm  going  to  Berlin." 

"  Ah  !  I  may  be  going  to  Berlin  myself  in  January 
or  February.  You  must  let  me  know  when  you  're  to 
be  there." 

"  Oh,  I  '11  see  you  ever  so  many  times  before  then. 
You  see,  I  '11  be  in  London  twice." 

"Yes,  that's  so." 

Leslie  looked  at  the  clock.  Glengarty  saw  the  look 
and  would  have  gone,  only  at  that  minute  the  door 
opened,  and  Rita  Coghlan  came  in.  She  was  most 
welcome,  only  — 


18  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"I  hope  you  don't  want  tea,"  said  Leslie,  "because 
I  've  turned  out  the  lamp." 

"  But  I  do  want  tea,"  said  Miss  Coghlan.  "  Do  have 
the  lamp  lit  again,  there 's  a  dear!" 

The  spirit-lamp  was  relit.  It  developed  that  the 
newcomer  would  have  come  sooner  only  for  being 
caught  in  the  claws  of  her  hair-dresser. 

"  I  never  enjoy  myself  there,"  she  said  plaintively. 
"He  holds  up  one  lock  after  another  and  says  'dear, 
dear,'  until  I  wish  I  'd  gone  to  a  funeral  instead." 

"I  know/'  said  Leslie  feelingly;  "hairdressers  are 
horrid." 

Captain  Glengarty  coughed,  and  that  reminded  both 
ladies  that  he  was  completely  bald  on  top. 

"Oh,"  said  Rita,  with  a  conscious  start,  "do  let 's 
go  and  get  our  fortunes  told  right  after  tea.  I  've 
just  been  given  such  a  good  address.  They  say  she  's 
a  wonder." 

"But  I  can't,"  said  Leslie;  "I  'm  packing." 

' '  Packing !    To  go  where  ? ' ' 

She  was  told  where,  —  all  three  places.  She  paid 
but  scant  attention  to  the  English  possibilities,  con- 
centrating herself  at  once  upon  the  Schloss. 

"Oh,  they're  so  clammy  cold,"  she  said.  "You 
can't  go  there  hi  the  winter,  my  dear;  you  '11  die  !" 


LESLIE  AND  CAPTAIN  GLENGARTY     19 

"  It  's  so  funny  in  Europe,"  said  Leslie.  "  Every  one 
worries  over  keeping  warm.  We  're  all  always  warm 
in  America ;  it 's  a  matter  of  course.  We  never  talk 
about  it." 

"  You  're  too  warm  in  America,"  said  Captain  Glen- 
garty.  "It 's  beastly  there,  cooking  hot  summer  and 
winter,  too." 

"  Yes,  that 's  true,"  said  Leslie,  who  never  stood 
up  for  anything  if  her  company  seemed  to  find 
joy  in  running  it  down.  "I  think  it 's  too  hot  there, 
myself." 

"  It 's  what  gives  most  of  you  such  funny  skins," 
said  Miss  Coghlan;  "that  and  ice-water." 

"Oh,  ice-water!"  said  Captain  Glengarty,  with  em- 
phasis. And  then,  seeing  that  the  other  caller,  instead 
of  putting  on  the  glove  which  she  had  taken  off,  was 
taking  off  the  glove  which  she  still  had  on,  he  rose 
to  go. 

Leslie  bade  him  good-by  right  cheerfully.  "I  don't 
care  much  for  him,"  she  said,  when  they  were  alone. 
"Let 's  have  some  fresh  tea  now  and  a  nice  chat." 

"Do  let 's  go  out  to  the  fortune-teller,"  said  Rita. 
"It 's  such  sport  to  hear  them." 

Leslie,  who  was  reaching  for  the  bell,  stopped  im- 
mediately, plainly  divided  between  her  thirst  and  her 


20  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

interest  in  her  own  fortune.  "I  should  like  to  know 
if  I  'm  to  be  married  again,"  she  said,  considering. 

"And  it  would  be  interesting  to  know  who  to,  too," 
said  her  friend.  "One  always  wonders  that,  does  n't 
one?" 

This  reminded  Leslie  that  she  was  n't  going  to  marry 
Hugo,  and  at  once  opened  up  a  new  and  wide  field  of 
scientific  research.  She  meditated  deeply.  "But  I 
don't  think  it 's  safe  to  visit  such  places  alone.  I  M 
rather  go  with  a  man,"  she  said  finally. 

"The  woman  always  says  you  '11  marry  him  then, 
and  spoils  all  the  fun,"  said  her  friend.  "And  if  you 
go  to  many  different  ones  with  many  different  men, 
and  they  all  tell  you  that,  you  soon  lose  faith  in  the 
whole  thing." 

"Yes,  that's  true,"  said  Leslie.  "I  suppose  per- 
haps it 's  better  to  go  with  a  woman,  only  it  is  n't  so 
interesting,"  she  added  regretfully. 

"What 's  best  is  for  two  women  to  go  with  one 
man,"  said  Miss  Coghlan.  "Then  you  do  stand  some 
chance  of  getting  to  the  bottom  of  things." 

"  But  I  'm  going  away  so  soon,"  said  Leslie,  coming 
suddenly  to  that  phase  of  the  situation. 

"We  can  go  when  you  come  back.  When  shall  you 
be  coming  back?" 


LESLIE  AND  CAPTAIN  GLENGARTY     21 

"In  about  a  week." 

"That  '11  do  nicely.  I  '11  find  a  man  to  go  with  us. 
Any  man  will  do,  I  suppose." 

"  Oh,  yes,  only  if  it 's  long  to  wait,  he  ought  to  be 
more  than  ordinarily  interesting,  because  one  of  us 
will  have  to  sit  with  him  while  the  other  's  in  with  the 
woman." 

"  I  '11  find  a  man  that 's  good  enough  to  sit  with." 

"Not  Captain  Glengarty." 

"  Oh,  no.     Fancy  marrying  him  ! " 

"Fancy  being  told  that  you  were  going  to  marry 
him;  that  would  be  worse,"  Leslie  shivered  a  little. 
"  But  some  one  will  marry  him  some  day.  That 's 
always  so  strange  to  me.  Some  one  always  marries 
every  one,  sometime." 

"  Yes,  that 's  so,"  said  Rita,  and  then  she  put  on 
her  gloves  and  pulled  down  her  veil,  asked  the  loan 
of  an  invisible  hairpin,  and  departed. 


CHAPTER  III 

LESLIE   AND  A  PRIORY 

LESLIE  and  her  maid  set  out  for  the  Priory  with  the 
best  intentions  in  the  world.  But,  unfortunately, 
traveling  in  England  is  not  so  easy  as  one  might  ima- 
gine. Many  English  landowners  objected  to  having 
railroads  pass  here  and  there  over  their  property. 
So  the  railroads  went  around  —  and  do  still. 

They  had  to  change  at  Chillworth,  at  Grimwell,  at 
Pulham  Cheap  and  at  Little  Settback.  This  was 
hard,  and  the  maid  became  quite  worn  out  and  so 
nervous  that  her  eyes  could  not  stop  counting  the 
hand-luggage. 

"  Have  we  any  more  sixpences,  Rose?" 

"No,  madame." 

"  How  many  sixpences  have  we  used  this  afternoon, 
do  you  suppose?" 

"I  don't  know,  madame.  I  changed  a  ten-shilling 
piece  before  we  left." 

"Oh,  dear!" 


LESLIE  AND  A  PRIORY  23 

There  was  a  silence.  The  fast-darkening  scene,  in 
spite  of  the  December  chill,  had  a  wonderfully  soft 
cosiness  of  outline.  Little  thatched  cottages  nestled 
by  big  hayricks,  and  smooth  brown  hedges  ran  about 
with  a  wavering  confidence  hi  their  own  ends.  It 
was  very  pretty.  The  train  stopped  again. 

"Pegg's  Gate,"  called  the  guard. 

"Do  we  change  here,  Rose?" 

"I  don't  know;  I  will  ask."  She  lowered  the 
window  as  she  spoke  and  leaned  out. 

The  guard  came  along,  and  a  question  was  put  and 
replied  to.  Leslie  divined  the  answer. 

"We  must  change?" 

"Yes,  madame,  and  quickly." 

"My  goodness  me!" 

Well,  they  changed  again. 

"  I  should  n't  think  that  England  was  big  enough  to 
hold  all  the  railroads  we  Ve  been  over  to-day,"  said 
Leslie,  who,  although  not  overgiven  to  conversation 
with  her  maid,  was  sometimes  moved  thereto  by 
sympathy. 

"  No,  madame."  Rose  was  settling  their  bags  where 
the  porter  had  piled  them  hurriedly. 

"Is  n't  this  carriage  cold?" 

"  It 's  freezing,  madame." 


24  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"We  '11  have  to  unroll  the  rugs  again." 

"  It 's  only  ten  minutes  to  Lapwell  Ham,  the  guard 
says." 

"Oh,  dear,  then  I  suppose  we  must  just  freeze." 

"Shall  I  unroll  them,  madame?" 

"No,  don't." 

It  was  very  dark  outside  by  this  time.  One  could 
see  nothing  except  an  occasional  signal  or  a  lighted 
window. 

"What  time  did  we  leave  London?'* 

"At  half-past  one,  madame." 

"And  it  must  be  five  now." 

The  maid  looked  at  her  wrist-watch.  "It's  ten 
minutes  after  five,  madame,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  dear!" 

"Lapwell  Ham!"  cried  a  guard  outside,  with  ex- 
plosive suddenness. 

"Rose,  this  is  it." 

"Yes,  madame." 

Great  confusion  ensued.  A  porter  got  the  luggage 
out,  and  it  was  all  claimed  immediately  by  a  footman. 
Then  came  a  little  promenade  across  the  bridge  above 
the  tracks,  a  closed  carriage,  and  a  long,  long  drive. 

"I  never  thought  of  it 's  being  so  far,"  Leslie  said; 
"it  will  be  a  rush  for  dinner." 


LESLIE  AND  A  PRIORY  25 

"  Yes,  madame,"  said  Rose,  her  mind  already  busy 
dealing  with  the  contingencies  to  come. 

The  carriage  mounted  a  hill  and  went  along  a  sort 
of  avenue  on  top.  Leslie  remembered  having  re- 
ceived a  postal-card  view  of  the  hill  and  the  avenue. 
After  a  while  the  carriage  ascended  more  hill,  wound 
about  a  bit,  and  stopped  before  a  great  stretch  of 
Doric  portico. 

Confusion  followed;  but  this  confusion  was  of  a 
mild,  well-bred  sort.  By  the  time  that  Leslie  was 
altogether  established  in  her  own  room  she  had  learned 
that  Lady  Rillingham  was  in  Bath  and  should  have 
arrived  a  half-hour  before.  Dinner  would  not  be 
served  until  eight  o'clock  under  existing  circumstances. 
Leslie  was  very  content. 

"And  is  n't  it  deliciously  warm?"  she  said,  seating 
herself  hi  a  low  chair  by  the  pretty  fire.  "  I  never  was 
more  comfortable  in  my  life." 

"It 's  very  nice,  madame,"  said  the  maid,  who  was 
unpacking  on  the  other  side  of  the  room.  "  I  think  I 
saw  hot- water  pipes  about  as  I  came  up." 

"Oh,  Rose!"  Leslie's  tone  was  one  of  ecstasy. 
Within  her  heart  she  was  conscious  of  having  mentally 
committed  a  great  injustice  against  the  English 
aristocracy. 


26  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

When  the  luggage  was  fairly  to  rights  Rose  went 
away  for  a  half-hour,  and  Leslie  laid  herself  deliciously 
back  in  the  deep  chair,  crossed  her  feet  on  the  fender, 
arid  was  happy  as  only  a  chill  American  can  be  hi  a 
warm  English  country-house.  The  room  was  charm- 
ingly  pretty,  with  white  enameled  furniture  and 
violets  on  the  curtains,  the  walls,  and  the  dressing- 
table. 

Then  there  came  a  tap  at  the  door  and  a  voice 
crying,  "It  is  I;  can  I  come  hi?" 

It  was  Lady  Rillingham,  a  stout,  lively  dame  in  a 
tweed  suit  and  with  a  rolled  journal  under  her  arm. 
They  exchanged  mutual  greetings.  The  hostess 
opened  fire  first. 

"Wasn't  it  dreadful  about  my  train?  —  so  late. 
But  the  trams  are  all  late  at  this  tune.  It 's  the  chil- 
dren getting  home  for  their  holiday  —  little  dears! 
Four  hundred  trams  of  them  from  Brighton  yester- 
day —  or  four  hundred  children,  I  'm  sure  I  don't 
remember  which.  Little  dears !  I  read  it  in  '  The 
Times.' " 

Leslie  was  being  somewhat  embraced  during  all 
this,  and  now  expressed  her  pleasure  over  being  where 
she  was. 

"Had  you  a  nice  trip?    Was  your  train  on  time?" 


LESLIE  AND  A  PRIORY  27 

"We  had  a  very  good  trip,  only  for  changes." 

"  Yes,  one  does  do  a  good  bit  of  changing,  does  n't 
one?  My  father-in-law  would  n't  hear  to  railways  on 
any  of  his  land,  you  see.  It 's  very  trying.  We  have 
to  send  to  stations  in  all  directions.  Some  one  is 
driving  now  to  Witherhithe  Wove  to  fetch  Waltheof 
and  Captain  Melton.  They  '11  be  very  late.  I  've 
put  dinner  off  till  after  eight  for  them.  It  would  n't 
matter  for  Waltheof,  but  Captain  Melton  is  a  stranger, 
and  he  may  be  extremely  nice,  mayn't  he?"  Lady 
Rillingham's  tone  was  most  appealing. 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Leslie.  "Are  there  a  great  many 
in  the  house?" 

"Not  so  very  many.  We  could  take  care  of  a  lot 
more  by  doubling  up  a  bit,  you  know.  Thirty,  or 
maybe  forty,  I  believe.  But,  my  dear,  are  you  warm 
enough?" 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed." 

"I'm  so  glad.  I've  ordered  your  fire  made  up 
fresh  at  eleven  every  night,  and  extra  coals  will  be 
put  where  your  maid  can  get  them  if  you  burn  all 
these.  You  must  n't  be  cold  with  us,  you  know." 

Leslie  felt  almost  too  happy. 

"You  see,  I  know  American  ways,"  said  her  lady- 
ship kindly.  "We  know  a  lot  of  Americans,  as  I  told 


28  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

you  before.  And  they  must  be  warm  or  they  're  not 
comfortable,  are  they,  now?" 

"I  'm  afraid  not,"  Leslie  confessed. 

"Waltheof  will  be  so  glad  to  see  you  again,  — 
poor  boy,"  Lady  Rillingham  went  on  smiling.  "It 's 
such  a  long,  cold  drive  that  I  wanted  to  send  a  closed 
carriage,  but  the  brougham  is  just  in  with  me,  and 
the  landau  is  at  Topton  Junction  waiting  for  the  Kep- 
pies ;  poor  dears,  they  will  be  very  late ;  they  '11  be 
held  back  by  the  school-children  from  the  north." 

"  Dear  me,  but  you  have  got  a  lot  on  your  hands ! " 

"  Yes,  have  n't  I?  But  it  would  n't  be  so  hard  if  my 
father-in-law  had  let  the  lines  come  on  his  land.  But 
I  must  run  away  now  and  leave  you  to  rest.  Here  's 
a  magazine  to  amuse  you.  There  's  a  very  interesting 
acrostic  in  the  back.  Are  you  any  good  at  acrostics?  " 
She  opened  the  roll  under  her  arm  as  she  spoke  and 
turned  directly  to  a  certain  page. 

Leslie  took  the  book.  "  I  've  never  had  much  expe- 
rience with  acrostics,"  she  said  hesitatingly. 

"Have  n't  you?  Why,  we  work  with  them  all  the 
time."  Lady  Rillingham's  surprise  was  evident.  "My 
sister's  governess  often  gets  them  out  correctly." 
She  took  the  magazine  again  and  looked  at  it  eagerly. 
"I  '11  just  show  you  a  bit,  and  then  you  can  go  on 


LESLIE  AND  A  PRIORY  29 

alone  by  yourself.  You  see  these  lines  refer  to  the 
word ;  it  's  a  little  poem  —  "  She  interrupted  herself 
to  get  her  glasses  and  place  them  upon  one  of  those 
noses  which  the  Romans  left  behind  when  they  aban- 
doned Britain.  " There,  my  dear,  this  is  it :  'As  flies 
the  time,  So  flies  my  task;  And  with  the  rhyme,  I 
questions  ask/  There,  what  do  you  make  of  that?" 

Leslie  looked  at  her  quickly,  believing  that  she 
must  be  joking;  but  meeting  her  kindly,  serious  gaze, 
she  hesitated,  struck  dumb  by  this  totally  unexpected 
phase  of  English  country-house  visiting. 

"Can  you  make  anything  of  it?"  Lady  Rillingham 
asked.  "You  see  you  must  have  some  basis  to  work 
on,  or  you  can't  possibly  get  on  at  all,  can  you,  now? 
Nobody  has  been  able  to  do  anything  with  this  one 
as  yet.  My  husband  thought  it  was  a  crow ;  but  it  Js 
a  double  acrostic,  you  see." 

"What  is  a  double  acrostic?"  Leslie  asked. 

"Why,  my  dear,  don't  you  know  anything  about 
acrostics?" 

"No,  nothing." 

"A  double  acrostic  is  when  both  ends  spell  some- 
thing." 

"When  both  ends  —  spell  —  " 

"  Yes,   dear,   that 's  it.     Here,   for  instance,   this 


30  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

line:  'Below  the  sun,  above  the  sea.'  Miss  Kitt  (my 
sister's  governess  is  Miss  Kitt)  thinks  it 's  Vesuvius, 
only  we  can't  work  the  V  in.  But  the  S  would  do  in 
Cheapside.  Only  it  would  be  a  letter  short,  would  n't 
it?" 

Lady  Rillingham  was  looking  attentively  through 
her  glasses  at  the  acrostic  and  did  not  see  Leslie's 
parted  lips  and  air  of  complete  bewilderment.  The 
latter  could  hardly  persuade  herself  that  she  was  not 
the  victim  of  some  curious  phase  of  humor. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,"  the  hostess  said,  suddenly  ceas- 
ing to  examine  the  acrostic,  "  you  have  your  divorce, 
haven't  you?" 

"My  divorce !    I  'm  a  widow." 

"  Not  really  ?    Not  a  real  widow  ?  " 

"Yes,  indeed." 

Lady  Rillmgham  removed  her  glasses  and  stared. 

"You  don't  mean  your  husband  is  actually  dead?" 

"Yes  —  yes,  really." 

"Really!  Why,  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing! 
An  American  husband  actually  dead!  Sir  Edward 
will  be  pleased  when  I  tell  him.  He  does  n't  like 
divorced  women.  But,  my  dear,  are  you  sure?  Do 
excuse  my  surprise,  but  —  but  I  'm  so  startled.  I 
only  asked  about  your  divorce  on  account  of  my 


LESLIE  AND  A  PRIORY  31 

sister.  My  sister  is  so  fond  of  Americans ;  she  knows 
ever  so  many,  —  she  let  her  place  to  one  once,  — 
but  she  had  a  very  bitter  experience  last  year,  and 
so  I  asked  on  her  account.  Oh,  my  sister  did  have  an 
experience ! " 

"What  happened?" 

"Why,  as  you  're  a  widow  I  don't  mind  telling  you 
in  confidence.  But  don't  speak  of  it  to  her.  She  'd 
never  forgive  me.  You  see  she  took  no  end  of  trouble 
for  an  American  woman,  had  the  man  down  repeat- 
edly, you  know,  and  all  that;  and  when  he  offered 
himself  the  woman  was  n't  divorced.  So  trying  for 
my  sister,  was  n't  it?  And  the  man  was  most  vexed. 
It  placed  him  in  such  a  trying  position,  did  n't  it, 
now?" 

"  I  'm  really  a  widow,"  said  Leslie,  feeling  a  little 
frightened.  "  But  I  do  hope  you  're  not  having  any 
one  down  for  me?"  she  added,  attempting  a  smile. 

"No,  dear,  no  one."  Lady  Rillingham  rose.  "But 
I  must  say  I  'm  pleased  over  you  're  being  a  widow. 
An  American  widow  is  such  a  novelty.  And  Sir 
Edward  will  be  pleased ;  he  so  disapproves  of  divorces. 
You  know  they  're  most  unpleasant  with  us.  It 's 
different  with  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  Leslie ;  she  felt  quite  crushed. 


32  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Now  I  must  run  along.  I  '11  be  in  the  drawing- 
room  at  eight,  and  do  come  down  early.  Maybe  we 
can  work  a  bit  on  the  acrostic  before  any  of  the  others 
get  ready." 

She  looked  at  Leslie  so  earnestly  that  no  one  could 
have  done  anything  other  than  promise  to  hurry. 
Leslie  promised,  feeling  like  Alice  under  the  spell  of 
the  Red  Queen. 

Then  she  was  left  alone.  Rose,  entering  later  with  a 
shining  can  of  boiling  water,  found  her  asleep  on  the 
lounge.  The  acrostic  was  in  the  chair  by  the  fire. 


CHAPTER   IV 

LESLIE  AND  THE  ACROSTIC 

IT  was  all  of  eight  o'clock  when  Leslie,  pleasantly 
conscious  of  youth,  health,  and  a  handsomer  gown 
than  any  one  else  would  likely  be  wearing,  descended 
the  staircase  and  was  ushered  through  two  cold  draw- 
ing-rooms into  one  most  gloriously,  brightly  warm. 
Late  as  was  the  hour  it  was  nevertheless  easy  to  see 
that  she  was  full  early,  for  Lady  Rillingham  was 
sitting  at  the  further  end,  with  a  glass  screen  between 
herself  and  the  fire,  and  the  only  other  person  present 
was  another  lady,  of  large  and  severe  appearance,  in 
a  blue  velvet  dress.  Lady  Rillingham  had  on  a 
green  satin  gown  with  appliqued  velvet  roses  placed 
where  the  dressmaker  had  thought  wisest;  she  had 
the  acrostic  in  her  hand,  and  her  glasses  were  in  their 
place. 

Leslie  wended  her  way  hi  and  out  amidst  the 
chaos  which  generations  of  generous  bestow  upon 
the  unhappy  but  continually  hereditary  drawing- 


34  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

rooms,  until  at  last  she  touched  the  fingers  of  her 
hostess. 

"And  this  is  my  sister,  Mrs.  Maskelyne-Myster," 
Lady  Rillingham  said,  with  a  wave  of  the  hand  from 
one  to  the  other;  "and  we  are  so  glad  to  have  you 
come  and  help  us,  aren't  we,  Edith?  You  see,  this 
is  just  the  same  as  the  one  you  had  up  hi  your  room; 
we  have  two  cppies.  And  oh,  my  dear,  it  is  an  awful 
one ! " 

She  made  a  place  for  Leslie  on  the  sofa  as  she 
spoke,  and  directly  that  young  woman  was  seated, 
sat  close  beside  her  with  the  magazine  hi  her  hand, 
and  an  expression  of  the  greatest  possible  solemnity 
on  her  face.  Mrs.  Maskelyne-Myster,  who  had  been 
sitting  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire,  rose  at  once  and 
pushed  her  chair  over  close  to  them.  Both  sisters 
seemed  to  recognize  the  advantage  of  focalizing 
personal  magnetism  when  anything  great  is  to  be 
accomplished. 

Lady  Rillingham  opened  the  magazine  and  offered 
Leslie  one  side  to  hold.  Leslie  took  hold  of  her  side. 

"There,  that  is  it,"  said  their  hostess,  pointing, 
"right  under  that  big  splash  of  ink;  the  splash  of 
ink  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,  however.  The  splash 
of  ink  is  an  advertisement.  I  do  hope  you  did  n't 


LESLIE  AND  THE  ACROSTIC         35 

let  the  splash  of  ink  confuse  the  meaning  for  you?" 
She  looked  at  Leslie  with  so  much  concern  over  the 
possibility  of  such  an  evil  chance,  that  Leslie  has- 
tened to  disclaim  all  mental  distress  resulting  from 
the  splash  of  ink.  Mrs.  Maskelyne-Myster,  who  had 
been  thoughtfully  considering  the  stranger's  gown  up 
to  now,  suddenly  leaned  over  and  studied  the  acrostic 
upside  down. 

"I  think  it  refers  to  the  outgoing  government, 
it 's  so  pointed.  'As  flies  the  time,  So  flies  my  task.' 
I  don't  see  how  it  can  mean  anything  else.  And  my 
husband  feels  exactly  as  I  do  about  it." 

"  But,  my  dear  Edith,"  said  her  sister,  in  a  tone  of 
earnest  entreaty,  "'outgoing'  has  eight  letters  and 
'government'  has  ten;  and  it's  a  double  acrostic." 

"But,  my  dear  Maude,  what  does  it  mean,  then?" 

At  that  Lady  Rillingham  examined  the  acrostic 
more  closely  yet  through  her  glasses.  "Perhaps 
one  of  the  men  will  be  good  at  a  guess!"  she  said 
finally. 

Mrs.  Maskelyne-Myster  turned  and  looked  at  the 
fire  for  a  full  minute.  "Is  your  room  warm?"  she 
asked  Leslie  then,  very  abruptly. 

Leslie  almost  jumped.  "Yes,"  she  said,  and 
sneezed  before  she  could  stop  herself. 


36  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"I  thought  so,"  said  Mrs.  Maskelyne-Myster. 
"You  see,  Maude,  she's  taken  cold  already." 

"But  I  haven't,"  Leslie  cried  in  great  distress. 
"I'm  deliciously  warm,  and  my  room  is  as  cozy  as  can 
be; "  and  then,  to  her  great  dismay,  she  sneezed  eight 
times  without  stopping. 

Lady  Rillingham  hastily  laid  the  acrostic  aside  and 
seized  some  smelling-salts  and  applied  them.  Leslie, 
who  had  her  handkerchief  to  her  face,  did  not  see  the 
salts  until  she  smelled  them.  Then  she  went  into  a 
veritable  paroxysm  of  sneezing  and  rising,  hastily 
started  to  leave  the  room,  but  was  stopped  in  the 
doorway  by  Waltheof  Rillingham,  who  was  just 
coming  in. 

"111?"  he  asked,  with  concern. 

"No,  j-j-just  sneezing,"  said  Leslie,  and  managed 
to  get  around  him  and  escape.  She  fairly  flew  up- 
stairs and  down  the  long  west  corridor.  Her  door 
was  next  to  the  last,  and  as  she  approached  it  she 
ran  into  a  man  just  emerged  from  the  last  room  of 
all.  It's  an  odd  sensation  to  run  into  a  strange  man 
in  a  long  hall  just  before  dinner.  If  he's  the  right 
height  his  shirt-bosom  creaks  so  curiously. 

"Oh,  my  goodness  me!"  she  exclaimed,  extricating 
herself  quickly,  and  then  she  fell  back  against  a  door, 


LESLIE  AND  THE  ACROSTIC  37 

so  startled  that  she  did  n't  know  whether  it  was 
hers  or  not,  and  forgot  all  her  sneezes. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  man  in  a  freezingly 
polite  tone,  and  turned  back  at  once,  that  in  the 
privacy  of  his  own  room  he  might  ascertain  what 
sort  of  a  front  she  had  left  him  to  put  up.  Ladies  in 
dark  halls  sometimes  betray  more  than  they  intend 
just  by  laying  a  train  of  powder  and  not  lighting  it. 
Leslie,  left  alone,  forgot  all  about  why  she  had  come 
up,  and  went  back  downstairs  in  a  bewildered  and 
stunned  state  of  mind. 

"Are  you  better?"  Lady  Rillingham  asked,  as  she 
entered.  "  Oh,  my  dear,  you  're  feverish ! "  She  looked 
distractedly  at  Waltheof,  who  was  standing  by  the 
fire. 

"It's  a  chill,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Maskelyne-Myster. 
"I  told  you  no  American  could  stand  our  climate, 
Maude.  She's  going  to  be  ill." 

"Give  her  a  brandy  and  soda,"  suggested  Waltheof. 

"But  I'm  all  right,"  Leslie  protested. 

"Take  a  brandy  and  soda,"  urged  Waltheof.  "I 
will,  if  you  will." 

Just  here  the  door  opened  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Keppie 
entered.  Greetings  all  around  —  and  of  the  most 
cordial  kind,  for  Mr.  Keppie  was  going  to  be  some- 


38  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

body  some  day,  and  his  wife  had  begun  to  dress  the 
part  already. 

"What  a  time  we  have  had,  to  be  sure,"  said  Mrs. 
Keppie,  adjusting  a  little  bird  which  she  wore  hung 
in  her  hair  upside  down.  "Dear  Lady  Rillingham 
we  thought  it  was  just  Topton,  and  we  got  down 
at  Topton  Pips."  Mrs.  Keppie's  voice  was  most 
plaintive. 

"You  see,  my  father-in-law  wouldn't  consent  to 
allowing  the  line  to  run  over  his  land,"  said  Lady 
Rillingham;  "it  makes  it  so  very  difficult  for 
our  friends.  But,  Mrs.  Keppie,  have  you  seen  the 
latest  acrostic?"  She  opened  the  magazine  as  she 
spoke. 

Mrs.  Keppie  seized  the  other  half  of  the  journal 
as  if  it  were  a  straw  and  she  had  been  drowned  for  a 
week.  As  for  Mr.  Keppie,  his  face  asumed  the  usual 
expression  of  a  man  who  is  used  to  courting  popu- 
larity at  any  cost.  That  much  of  the  party  seemed 
happily  disposed  of. 

Waltheof  approached  Leslie.  "Melton  and  I  have 
just  been  driving  over  from  Witherhithe  Wove,"  he 
said,  pronouncing  it  without  the  slightest  difficulty; 
"ever  been  there?" 

Leslie,   who  always  said  "bin,"  wished  she  could 


LESLIE  AND  THE  ACROSTIC          39 

remember  to  pronounce  it  properly,  and  wondered 
if  she  ever  should.  "No,  never,"  she  said  sadly. 

"From  Witherhithe  Wove!"  cried  Mr.  Keppie, 
abandoning  the  acrostic  and  joining  forces  with  those 
who  didn't  want  to  be  joined.  "That  is  a  drive, 
is  n't  it?" 

"I  believe  you,"  said  Waltheof.  "Melton's  sorry 
he  came." 

"Who  is  Melton?"  asked  Mrs.  Maskelyne-Myster, 
without  turning. 

"Captain  Melton?  Oh,  he  's  a  fellow  in  town. 
You  won't  like  him,  aunt." 

"Why  not?" 

"He's  sarcastic." 

Just  then  the  door  opened  and  Sir  Edward  came 
in.  He  was  a  stout,  jolly  man.  "Hello,  Waltheof," 
he  said  cordially;  "I  didn't  know  you'd  got  here." 

Then  he  spoke  to  all  the  rest.  Then  others  entered, 
and  finally  the  door  opened,  and  the  man  who  had 
the  next  room  to  Leslie's  came  in.  He  was  a  nice 
man  and  she  liked  him  at  once.  Of  course  he  was 
Captain  Melton.  Leslie  liked  captains.  There  was 
hardly  anything  that  a  man  could  be  that  Leslie 
did  n't  like.  She  had  the  most  liberal  views. 

Dinner  came  next.    After  dinner  Lady  Rillingham 


40  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

took  her  guest  to  one  side  and  spoke  seriously  with 
her.  "My  dear,  I'm  so  sorry,  but  I  never  met  Cap- 
tain Melton  before,  and  he  seems  most  peculiar." 

"Yes,"  said  Leslie,  tentatively. 

"He  does  n't  like  women  and  he  dislikes  Americans. 
I  'm  sure  I  wish  that  Waltheof  had  never  asked  him." 

Leslie  looked  across  at  Mrs.  Keppie  and  her  host- 
ess' sister.  For  a  minute  she  hardly  knew  what  to  say. 

"Captain  Melton  and  I  need  not  see  much  of  one 
another,"  she  suggested  finally.  She  felt  that  this 
would  be  a  pity  even  as  she  said  it.  Captain  Mel- 
ton would  never  know  what  he  had  missed,  and 
that  seemed  so  sad. 

"No,  dear,  of  course  not.  And  he'll  be  out  of  the 
house  most  of  the  day,  and  I  '11  see  that  he  never  sits 
near  you." 

Leslie  felt  a  revulsion  of  sentiment.  "Oh,  I've 
nothing  against  him,"  she  said  quickly. 

"No,  of  course;  but  why  should  you  be  annoyed 
with  him?  When  it's  not  necessary.  That's  what 
I  say." 

Leslie  felt  horribly  lonely  at  this,  then  she  smiled. 
"But  perhaps  I  could  bring  him  to  like  women  and 
-  and  Americans/'  she  suggested ;  "  shall  —  shall  I 
trv?" 


LESLIE  AND  THE  ACROSTIC  41 

Lady  Rillingham  patted  her  hand.  "It's  like  your 
sweet  nature  to  propose  it,"  she  said;  "but  I  cant 
allow  you  to  martyr  yourself.  No,  no,  I  '11  see  that  he 
never  troubles  you.  And  now  — "  she  looked  around 
vaguely,  "we'll  just  get  together  and  work  on  the 
acrostic  " 

"Acrostic!"  said  Mrs.  Keppie  from  across  the 
room.  "Oh,  yes,  do  get  the  acrostic!" 

"I'll  read  it  to  you  all  together,"  said  Lady  Rill- 
ingham. "It  may  make  it  appear  in  a  new  light." 
So  she  read  it  to  them  all  together. 

"Why,  that  means  Herald  Square,"  said  a  certain 
large,  raw-boned  personage,  who  always  traveled 
with  a  hammer  and  a  nut-cracker,  and  prided  herself 
on  her  unexpected  resourcefulness. 

"Herald  Square!''  said  Mrs.  Maskelyne-Myster, 
not  understanding. 

"  Yes,  where  all  the  newspapers  are  printed  for 
America.  Nothing  could  be  simpler." 

Leslie  sighed.  And  then  she  sneezed.  And  then 
the  men  came  into  the  room.  It  was  no  use  denying 
that  Melton  was  the  best-looking  man  among  them. 
Leslie,  who  liked  handsome  men,  felt  dreadfully  over 
it  all.  It  was  hard;  it  hurt  her  as  much  as  any- 
thing could  hurt  her  now  that  — 


CHAPTER  V 

LESLIE  AND  THE  AFTER-DINNER  HOUR 

WHEN  the  men  walked  into  the  room  Melton  looked 
directly  at  Leslie;  this  was  hopeful.  But  his  look 
was  indifferent  and  his  brow  slightly  drawn;  that 
was  horrid.  Leslie  felt  a  mad  longing  to  make  him 
absolutely  adore  —  Americans  —  come  over  her.  She 
often  had  such  seizures  and  found  them  difficult  to 
recover  from. 

Melton  came  and  stood  near  her  and  looked 
at  a  picture.  She  wondered  if  she  ought  to  say 
anything.  He  continued  to  stand  there,  and  finally 
she  decided  that  she  must  say  something,  so  she 
said: 

"It  was  very  stupid  in  me  to  run  into  you." 

"Oh,  that  was  nothing,"  said  Melton,  "people  are 
continually  doing  stupid  things.  One  shouldn't  be 
captious." 

Leslie  hadn't  expected  that.  Whenever  she  had 
declared  herself  stupid,  men  had  always  said  very 


THE  AFTER-DINNER  HOUR  43 

nice  things,  indeed  most  awfully  nice  things.     She 
was  much  startled. 

"I  hope  that  I  did  n't  hurt  you  badly?''  she  said 
after  a  while. 

"Nothing  to  speak  of,"  said  the  captain,  still  re- 
garding the  picture;  "I'm  too  old  a  soldier  to  mind 
a  blow  on  the  chest,  even  if  it  was  a  bit  stiff." 

Leslie  quite  gasped.  "  Were  you  —  were  you  in 
the  Crimea?"  she  asked  hurriedly.  She  had  the  feel- 
ing that  she,  at  least,  must  attempt  to  be  agreeable. 

"  No,  I  was  n't,  but  my  grandfather  was.  I  was  hi 
the  Partition  of  Poland." 

"Oh,"  said  Leslie.  She  had  a  vague  feeling  of 
misery  because  of  not  knowing  when  Poland  was 
parted.  "How  nice,"  she  murmured  after  a  long 
twenty  seconds,  and  then  she  felt  that  they  had 
best  cease  discussing  history.  She  looked  upon  his- 
tory as  her  one,  and  only,  vulnerable  spot. 

"You're  not  in  the  army  now?"  she  asked. 

"No,  I'm  here  now,"  said  the  man. 

She  looked  at  him  in  real  vexation  then,  for  he  spoke 
with  a  sort  of  courtly  insolence  that  she  had  never 
encountered  before. 

"  What  makes  you  so  abominably  rude? "  she 
asked.  "Is  it  because  I 'm  an  American? " 


44  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Melton  let  his  monocle  fall.  "  I  did  n't  know  that  I 
was  abominably  rude,"  he  said;  "pray  overlook  it. 
I'm  rather  a  boor,  I  know;  but  although  I  dislike 
Americans  I  never  intend  to  be  abominably  rude  to 
any  one." 

"But  why  do  you  dislike  us  so?" 

He  turned  from  the  picture  at  last.  "I  often 
wonder,"  he  said;  "it's  a  curious  antipathy  of  mine. 
Or  perhaps  it's  because  you've  each  been  an  Ameri- 
can child  once." 

"And  you  don't  like  American  children?" 

"Horrid  little  brutes,"  said  the  captain,  and  turned 
back  to  the  picture. 

"  If  I  say  another  word  he  '11  take  an  antipathy 
to  me,  most  likely,"  Leslie  thought,  so  she  rose 
and  walked  away  to  the  other  side  of  the  room 
and  there  seated  herself  on  a  low  divan.  Sir 
Edward  came  at  once  and  sat  beside  her.  He 
didn't  want  Waltheof  to  marry  a  widow,  so  he 
warded  off  the  possibility  by  sitting  down  beside 
her  himself. 

"It's  very  cold,"  said  Sir  Edward. 
'I'm  delightfully  warm,"  said  Leslie. 

'  I  meant  outdoors,"  said  Sir  Edward.  "Do  you 
soo  that  picture?"  he  indicated  one  opposite. 


THE  AFTER-DINNER  HOUR  45 

"It's  a  portrait,  isn't  it?"  she  asked. 

"My  great-uncle,"  said  Sir  Edward. 

She  looked  at  the  painting  in  astonishment,  for 
it  represented  a  young  girl  of  sixteen  weaving  a 
daisy  chain.  "It's  —  it's  very  beautiful,"  she 
hazarded. 

"Yes,"  said  Sir  Edward,  "he  was  a  great  painter." 

Leslie  hoped  that  Captain  Melton  had  heard  that, 
as  he  had  seemed  to  her  to  have  a  sense  of  humor. 
That  led  her  to  ask : 

"Is  Captain  Melton  Irish?" 

"He  doesn't  look  so,  does  he?"  Sir  Edward  re- 
plied; then  he  dropped  his  voice.  "Most  peculiar 
chap,"  he  said;  "I  can't  understand  Waltheof's 
taste." 

They  were  getting  out  the  bridge  tables,  and  now 
the  morose  captain  sat  gayly  down  and  won  all  the 
money  the  company  had  on  them  and  some  they 
had  n't. 

"My  friend  isn't  making  himself  popular,"  said 
Waltheof,  coming  over  to  a  seat  by  Leslie,  who  did 
not  play  because  the  cards  never  made  any  impres- 
sion on  her. 

"I  think  it's  awful  to  play  for  money,"  she  said. 

"I  fancy  the  rest  all  agree  with  you." 


46  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Then  Waltheof  turned  so  that  his  back  screened 
them  both  from  his  mother  and  talked  of  other 
things. 

"  Don't,  please,"  Leslie  implored. 

"What?" 

"Don't  lean  over  me  that  way!" 

"Why  not?    No  one  can  see." 

"  Your  breath  on  my  ear  —  oh !  t-there,  I  knew  it 
would  end  so."  She  began  to  sneeze  violently  again. 

She  sneezed  and  sneezed,  until  she  not  only  had  to 
go  to  her  room  but  broke  up  the  bridge.  They  all 
came  over  by  the  fire. 

"You  ought  not  to  have  asked  her,"  Mrs.  Maske- 
lyne-Myster  said,  with  a  sister's  freedom;  "my  hus- 
band feels  just  as  I  do  about  it." 

"Americans  are  no  good  in  December  in  England," 
said  Captain  Melton,  who,  since  his  winnings,  had 
become  markedly  better-tempered. 

"She's  very  charming,"  said  Mrs.  Keppie,  who 
was  so  embittered  by  her  losses  that  she  did  n't 
know  what  she  was  saying  but  meant  to  disagree 
with  the  captain  anyhow. 

"  If  she  has  influenza,  it  '11  run  through  the  whole 
house;  you  know  that,  don't  you,  Maude?"  said 
Mrs.  Maskelyne-Myster.  "Think  of  my  girls!" 


THE  AFTER-DINNER  HOUR  47 

"Let's  think  about  ourselves  a  little  bit  first," 
said  Captain  Melton.  "Why  don't  you  quarantine 
her?" 

"But  that  will  quarantine  you  too;  you're  right 
next  to  her,  you  know,"  said  Lady  Rillingham  seri- 
ously. "I  can't  think  she's  really  ill.  Let's  get  the 
acrostic." 

"I  hate  acrostics,"  said  Captain  Melton. 

Mrs,  Keppie  went  at  once  and  sat  by  her  husband. 
"Did  he  drink  much?"  she  whispered  hi  a  tone  so 
near  to  inaudible  that  every  one  was  only  just  able 
to  hear  what  she  said. 

Waltheof  began  to  laugh.  His  mother  rose  and 
looked  feverishly  about  for  the  acrostic. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  to-morrow?"  Mr. 
Maskelyne-Myster  asked  of  his  brother-in-law. 

"We  thought  of  motoring  to  Dorchester.  Mrs. 
Revere 's  never  been  there.  I  suppose  the  rest  of 
you  will  hunt." 

A  hunting  ripple  passed  over  the  party. 

"Who  will  go  to  Dorchester?"  Mrs.  Keppie 
asked. 

"I'm  going  to  take  the  chauffeur,"  said  Sir  Ed- 
ward seriously  —  he  was  naturally  a  very  serious 
man — "  and  my  wife,  and  Mrs.  Revere,  of  course, 


48  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

and  any  one  else  who  wants  to  go.  There  will  be 
room  for  two  more  —  for  one  more,  comfortably." 

There  was  no  immediate  rush  for  either  the  com- 
fortable or  the  uncomfortable  vacant  space. 

"The  roads  struck  me  as  very  slippery,"  said 
Melton;  "but  perhaps  you've  managed  to  accustom 
your  Dorsetshire  tires  to  that." 

"You  can't  accustom  a  tire  to  anything,"  said 
Mr.  Keppie. 

"Can't  you,  indeed,"  said  Melton;  "mine  are  used 
to  anything." 

Mr.  Keppie  looked  closely  at  his  face.  His  wife 
looked  anxiously  from  one  to  the  other. 

"There,  I  have  it  at  last,"  exclaimed  Lady  Rilling- 
ham,  rejoining  them  with  the  magazine;  "now  we'll 
have  a  delightful  half-hour." 

Every  one  drew  around  the  fire  except  such  as 
were  already  standing  before  it. 

"What  do  you  say  to  a  game  of  billiards  before 
we  break  up?"  Waltheof  proposed  to  his  friend. 

"But  can  Lady  Rillingham  spare  me?"  Melton 
asked,  smiling  pleasantly  at  his  hostess. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  her  Ladyship  hurriedly;  "there's 
a  beautiful  fire  in  the  billiard-room." 

They  went  out  directly. 


THE  AFTER-DINNER  HOUR  49 

'Oh,  Maude,  what  a  terrible  man,"  cried  Mrs. 
Maskelyne-Myster,  almost  before  the  door  was  fairly 
shut;  ''three  pounds,  ten,  my  dear,  — three  pounds, 
ten!" 

"I  never  like  playing  for  money,"  said  Lady  Rill- 
ingham,  who  had  two  pounds,  five,  gnawing  at  her 
own  conscience.  "Waltheof  knows  him;  I  wish 
Waltheof  did  n't." 

"I  think  he's  rather  amusing,"  said  Sir  Edward. 
"That  was  rather  good  what  he  said  about  the 
tires;  I  did  n't  think  so  at  the  moment,  but  I've 
been  thinking  it  over  since,  and  it  was  really  rather 
good." 

"I  didn't  think  so,"  said  Mrs.  Keppie;  "I  don't 
find  anything  he  says  in  the  least  amusing.  I  think 
he  's  a  boor." 

"And  if  she  has  influenza  and  my  girls  get  it!" 
said  Mrs.  Maskelyne-Myster,  with  a  long,  solemn, 
expressive  pause. 

"Perhaps  it's  hay  fever?"  suggested  Mr.  Keppie. 

"Or  face  powder?"  suggested  his  wife. 

"You  do  have  the  most  impossible  people  down 
here,  Maude,"  said  Lady  Rillingham's  sister  severely. 
"Why  don't  you  confine  yourself  to  your  own  set, 
as  others  do?" 


50  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Lady  Rillingham  had  had  her  sister  too  long  to 
care  in  the  slightest  degree  what  she  said  or  thought 
about  anything. 

"Let  us  work  on  the  acrostic,"  she  pleaded. 
"Wouldn't  it  really  be  quickest  to  get  it  out  by 
separate  words?  Take  this,  for  instance:  'From 
tower  and  turret,  bell  to  bell  doth  peal ;  And  slippers 
laid  aside  bare  stones  can  feel.'  That  would  be 
mosque,  would  n't  it?" 

"Or  Madeira,  perhaps,"  said  Mr.  Keppie.  "They 
used  to  travel  from  one  to  the  other,  you  know." 

"Oh,  yes,"  exclaimed  Lady  Rillingham,  fairly 
•delighted  over  having  evoked  one  little  -spark  of 
interest.  "That  must  be  it,  of  course.  Do  draw 
near,  Albert,"  she  said  to  her  brother;  "you're  so 
good  at  all  this." 

"  I  'm  not  good  at  it  at  all,"  he  said ;  "  I  never  tried 
to  do  one  in  my  life." 

"Well,  at  least  you  can  fetch  the  dictionary  and 
help  us.  Come  now." 

Meanwhile,  in  the  billiard-room  the  guest  had 
just  finished  a  run  of  fifty-two. 

"Oh,  I  say,"  cried  Waltheof,  "this  will  never  do, 
you  know.  To-morrow  you'll  kill  all  the  foxes,  and 
the  day  after  you'll  shoot  all  the  pheasants,  and 


THE  AFTER-DINNER  HOUR  51 

then  you'll  go  up  to  town  again  and  not  leave  a 
friend  behind  you." 

"I'm  not  going  to  hunt  to-morrow,"  said  Melton. 
"I'm  going  to  Dorchester.  And  I  shan't  be  urged 
to  play  bridge  again,  and  that  suits  me  very  well; 
for  I  never  stay  a  winner  long." 

Then  Waltheof  gasped  in  his  turn. 


CHAPTER  VI 

LESLIE  AND  THE   MOTOR 

THERE  were  no  thrills  of  joy  when  it  was  learned  that 
Waltheof's  friend  was  going  to  join  the  motor-party. 
Sir  Edward  took  the  precaution  of  hurriedly  sending 
forth  word  that  no  matter  what  happened  nobody  but 
the  driver  was  to  touch  the  motor. 

"I  'm  afraid  he  's  one  of  those  men  who  will  simply 
absorb  all  the  rugs,"  said  Lady  Rillingham,  who,  in 
the  privacy  of  her  own  room,  was  busily  engaged  hi 
making  a  neat  mat  out  of  her  hair  with  invisible  hair- 
pins. "Who  invited  him  to  go,  anyway?" 

The  maid  was  laying  out  a  choice  array  of  lined 
coats,  and  Mrs.  Maskelyne-Myster  in  her  riding-habit 
was  looking  out  of  the  window. 

"The  man  is  a  cad,"  said  the  latter  feelingly,  - 
"a  cad,  my  dear.    Three  pounds,  ten!" 

"You  ought  to  go,  Edith,"  said  her  Ladyship; 
"you  '11  have  a  very  bad  hour  overtaking  them  no\v,v 

"Albert  isn't  ready." 


LESLIE  AND  THE  MOTOR  53 

"Albert  went  on  with  Dr.  Bigsmouth  a  long  time 
ago." 

At  this  Mrs.  Maskelyne-Myster  gave  a  jump  and 
left  the  room  at  once. 

"Give  me  my  woolen  hug-me-tight,  Grey,"  said 
Lady  Rillingham,  with  a  stout  sigh.  The  maid  did 
as  she  was  bid  and  then,  by  further  labor,  succeeded 
in  getting  everything  else  laid  on  the  bed  off  the  bed 
and  on  to  her  mistress. 

The  hunters  were  long  gone  when  the  motoring  party 
gathered  under  the  Doric  portico.  They  looked  like 
a  polar  expedition  —  but  many  motoring  parties  look 
like  polar  expeditions. 

"You  shall  sit  in  front,  Melton,"  said  Sir  Edward.. 
"I  '11  sit  with  my  wife,  and  Mrs.  Revere  will  sit  be- 
tween us.  Is  the  foot-warmer  in,  Benson,  and  the 
extra  rugs?" 

"Everything  is  in,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  half-dozen 
servants  who  were  swarming  quietly  about,  poking 
umbrellas  and  guide-books  and  other  necessities 
here  and  there. 

"  I  think  we  may  start  now,"  said  Lady  Rillingham, 
pulling  three  veils  down  and  two  collars  up,  "and 
we  want  to  go  by  Winny  Abbey  and  come  back  over 
Bushrow  Hill,  my  dear." 


64  HUW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Oh,  my  dear  Maude,"  expostulated  her  husband, 
"we  can't  come  back  over  the  hill." 

"Yes,  we  can;  I  want  to  show  Mrs.  Revere  the 
view." 

"  It  '11  be  too  dark  to  see  the  view,  Maude." 

"Then  we  must  leave  Dorchester  a  bit  earlier, 
Edward." 

"But  we  must  get  to  Dorchester  before  we  can 
leave  Dorchester,  Maude." 

"Edward!" 

"Maude!" 

"  Do  you  mind  my  lighting  a  cigarette  while  you  're 
talking  it  over?"  said  the  captain.  Leslie  looked  at 
him  in  real  horror.  And  yet  she  could  n't  help  liking 
him,  because  he  was  so  good-looking. 

No  cigarette  was  lit,  because  the  suggestion  closed 
the  discussion  at  once.  They  set  off,  and  they  took  the 
road  by  Winny  Abbey. 

The  way  was  very  pretty,  but  there  was  a  piercing 
wind.  Leslie,  tucked  between  her  host  and  hostess, 
was  deliciously  comfortable;  not  so  they.  It  soon 
showed  in  their  comportment. 

"That 's  Winny  Abbey,  there  to  the  right,  Mrs. 
Revere,"  said  Sir  Edward;  "it 's  the  oldest  Cistercian 
foundation  in  England." 


LESLIE  AND  THE  MOTOR  55 

"Benedictine,  Edward,"  said  his  wife. 

"Cistercian,  Maude,"  said  her  husband. 

"Benedictine." 

"Cistercian." 

The  motor  rolled  swiftly  nearer. 

"Why,  it  isn't  Winny  Abbey  at  all,"  said  Sir 
Edward ;  "it's  Little  Claptrap  Church.  I  thought  we 
were  on  the  other  road." 

"  I  did  n't  see  how  you  could  see  Winny  Abbey  from 
this  road,"  said  his  wife;  "but  of  course  I  never  con- 
tradict you." 

"Of  course  not,"  said  her  husband. 

"  My  dear,  such  a  curious  thing,"  Lady  Rillingham 
said  to  Leslie,  "that  ditch  to  the  right  —  not  the  one 
to  the  left ;  nobody  knows  anything  about  the  ditch 
to  the  left  —  but  that  ditch  to  the  right  is  said  to  be 
one  of  the  oldest  Saxon  ditches  in  England." 

"  One  of  the  earliest  British  ditches,"  corrected  Sir 
Edward. 

"Saxon,  Edward." 

"British,  Maude." 

"Edward!" 

"Maude!" 

"There  isn't  any  ditch  along  here,"  cried  Captain 
Melton. 


56  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Oh,  I  was  thinking  of  the  Tippy  Lipton  Road," 
said  Lady  Rillinzham.  "I  wanted  to  go  the  Tippy 
Lipton  Road." 

"Why  did  n't  you  say  so,  then?"  said  Sir  Edward. 

"Say  so,  Edward!" 

"Say  so,  Maude!" 

Leslie  began  to  feel  very  uncomfortable,  but  just 
then  the  motor  broke  down  with  a  whizz  and  changed 
the  bent  of  the  conversation. 

"I  wanted  to  drive,"  said  Lady  Rillingham,  who 
experienced  much  the  same  difficulty  in  getting  out 
in  her  wraps  that  the  Biblical  camel  is  cautioned 
against  in  regard  to  the  needle's  eye.  "  I  never  like  to 
motor." 

"  You  can't  drive  to  Dorchester,"  said  her  husband. 

"Edward!" 

"Maude!" 

"Come,  my  dear,  let  us  walk  on  a  bit,"  said  Lady 
Rillingham,  who  never  was  ruffled  in  the  least  degree 
by  her  marital  bouts.  "They  can  overtake  us." 

"Or  else  we  can't,  you  know,"  said  Melton,  who 
was  now  lighting  the  cigarette;  "you  can  count  on 
our  doing  one  of  the  two,  however." 

They  walked  on.  It  was  a  lovely  country  road, 
with  no  end  of  picturesque  twists  and  turns. 


LESLIE  AND  THE  MOTOR  57 

"And  do  you  know,  my  dear,"  said  Lady  Rilling- 
ham,  as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  the  motor's  hearing, 
"  I  just  took  out  the  page  with  the  acrostic  on  it  and 
I  've  got  it  in  my  muff.  We  can  have  a  nice  time 
working  on  it  as  we  walk  along." 

Leslie  gasped;  but  just  then  the  motor  came 
flying  up. 

"It  wasn't  anything  at  all,"  Sir  Edward  said, 
getting  down;  "only  took  half  a  minute's  work." 

The  captain  got  down,  too,  hoisted  her  Ladyship 
into  the  car,  and  threw  Leslie  in  on  top  of  her.  He 
was  a  strong  man,  and  it  was  a  truly  beautiful  fling 
that  he  gave  her.  It  loosened  all  her  hairpins,  but 
she  did  n't  mind. 

"Do  you  know,  he's  uncommonly  knowing  hi 
motors,"  Sir  Edward  told  them,  raising  his  eyebrows 
and  nodding  hard  at  the  front  seat  to  let  both  ladies 
know  whom  he  meant. 

"  I  've  been  used  to  them  all  my  life,"  the  man  on 
the  front  seat  said,  without  turning. 

Lady  Rillingham  poked  her  husband  behind  Leslie, 
opened  her  eyes  widely,  and  otherwise  signified  that 
Captain  Melton  had  certainly  heard  what  had  been 
said  about  him. 

They  reached  Dorchester  about  half-past  one. 


58  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Just  in  time  for  lunch,"  said  Sir  Edward;  "we  '11 
eat,  and  then  we  '11  go  and  see  Maumsbury  Rings." 

"That 's  the  Roman  Amphitheatre,  is  n't  it?"  asked 
the  captain. 

"Yes,  have  you  seen  it?" 

"No,  but  I  've  heard  about  it." 

"He  seem3  to  be  well-read,"  Sir  Edward  said,  in  a 
very  low  tone,  to  his  wife. 

"Oh,  I  like  old  ruins,"  said  their  weird  guest. 

All  three  looked  at  him  in  different  kinds  of  dismay. 

After  luncheon  they  walked  out  to  the  Roman 
Amphitheatre,  which,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the 
ground  belongs  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  who  rents 
it  for  a  sheep-pasture,  has  never  been  uncovered  ex- 
cept in  spots,  and  has  then  always  been  hastily 
covered  up  again. 

"It  is  n't  as  interesting  as  it  might  be,  is  it?"  said 
Lady  Rillingham.  "Some  think  it  most  uninter- 
esting. " 

"Is  there  anything  else  to  see  in  Dorchester?"  the 
captain  asked. 

"There  's  the  museum.  It  contains  a  Roman  pave- 
ment," suggested  Sir  Edward  cautiously. 

"That  can't  be  anything  new." 

"Perhaps  we'd  better  start  back,"  said  Sir  Ed- 


LESLIE  AND  THE  MOTOR  59 

ward.  "We  want  to  climb  Bushrow  Hill  by  daylight, 
if  possible." 

"But  we  haven't  seen  half  Dorchester  yet,"  pro- 
tested Lady  Billingham;  "there  is  a  great  deal  yet 
to  be  seen." 

"  Oh,  no,  there  is  n't,  Maude,"  said  her  husband. 

"Edward!" 

They  went  back  to  the  motor.  All  the  wraps  were 
safe,  and  they  were  soon  in  and  off. 

"The  days  are  so  short,"  said  Leslie. 

"Yes,  aren't  they?"  said  her  hostess.  "Edward, 
did  you  buy  the  new  number?" 

"The  new  number  of  what,  Maude?" 

"Of  the  acrostic." 

Silence  betrayed  the  true  fact  of  the  case. 

"There,  that  'a  St.  Ebba's  Well ! "  said  Lady  Rffling- 
ham,  rallying  her  forces  after  the  blow. 

"St.  Tibbet's  Well,"  corrected  her  husband. 

"St.  Ebba's,  Edward." 

"St.  Tibbet's,  Maude." 

"Is  that  the  hill?"  the  captain  called  from  the 
front  seat. 

"That?  Oh,  no,  we're  ten  miles  from  Bushrow 
Hill,"  Sir  Edward  answered. 

"Twelve,"  said  his  wife. 


60  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Ten,"  said  her  husband 

They  sped  on  and  on  until,  just  as  night  fell  com- 
pletely, they  whirled  a  corner  and  flew  at  Bushrow 
Hill. 

Half-way  up  they  stuck. 

"We  must  all  get  out,"  said  Sir  Edward.  "Get 
out,  Maude." 

"Dear,  dear!"  said  Lady  Rillingham. 

Melton  reached  into  the  motor,  lifted  Leslie  out  as 
if  she  had  been  a  baby  and  set  her  gently  down  hi  the 
mud.  She  was  beginning  to  like  him  very  much 
indeed. 

"Now  hunt  for  stones,"  he  bade  her. 

"Why?  "she  asked. 

"Because!"  he  answered,  and  passed  around  in 
front  of  the  motor. 

"Was  that  a  joke  or  did  he  really  mean  it?"  Lady 
Rillingham,  who  seemed  to  have  taken  dumb  root  by 
the  back  wheel,  asked  Leslie. 

"I  don't  know,"  Leslie  replied.  "I  never  saw  such 
a  man." 

"Maude,  are  you  hunting  for  stones?"  Sir  Edward 
inquired  in  the  dark. 

"Then  it  wasn't  a  joke,"  said  Lady  Rillingham, 
with  an  air  of  relief .  "My  husband  never  jokes.  His 


LESLIE  AND  THE  MOTOR  61 

father  never  did.  We  must  find  some  stones ;  they  '11 
be  right  beside  the  road  if  they  're  anywhere." 

The  motor  stood  still  with  its  four  huge  eyes  glaring 
ahead,  and  the  driver  and  the  captain  diving  actively 
in  front  of  it.  Behind,  in  the  pitchy  Stygian  dark- 
ness, Sir  Edward,  his  wife  and  Leslie  sought  fruit- 
lessly for  stones. 

"I  knew  that  we  could  neve?  make  this  hill,"  said 
Sir  Edward,  when  he  had  pounced  on  his  fifteenth 
stone  and  found  it  to  be  a  dead  leaf,  after  all. 

"Then  why  did  n't  you  say  so?"  said  his  wife. 

"I  did." 

"Edward !"  with  two  exclamation  points. 

"Maude!"  with  three. 

"I  think  there  's  nothing  to  do  but  to  back  down, 
sir,"  said  the  chauffeur. 

"Well,  if  we  must,  we  must." 

It  took  about  fifteen  minutes  to  commit  the  deed, 
for  the  motor  acted  like  an  elephant  whose  mind  is 
wandering.  The  party  spent  their  tune  alternately 
rushing  down  in  the  ditch  or  up  hi  the  hedge  to  keep 
out  of  the  way. 

They  reached  the  Priory  about  seven.  Sir  Edward 
was  most  uncommunicative  during  the  last  hour.  His 
wife  asked  him  several  questions  and  he  answered  none 


62  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

of  them,  so  she  finally  announced  her  conviction  that 
he  must  be  asleep. 

"If  he's  asleep,  you  and  I  can  talk  freely,"  she 
said  then,  "and,  my  dear,  I  'm  very  glad,  because  I 
want  to  tell  you  who  is  coming  to-night." 

"Who?"  said  Leslie,  bracing  herself  to  support  her 
slumbering  host  as  well  as  she  could. 

"  Such  a  nice  man.  You  '11  like  him  immensely. 
And  between  ourselves,  dear,  I  asked  him  just  on 
your  account." 

"  Oh,"  said  Leslie,  her  tone  non-committal. 

"  He  's  English,  but  he  's  been  in  America  and  will 
understand  just  what  you  mean  all  the  tune.  You  '11 
like  him.  And  I  expect  you  could  marry  him  if  you 
chose." 

Leslie  did  n't  just  know  what  to  say  to  that. 

"  He  is  n't  so  very  well  off,  but  he  's  not  poor  by  any 
means,  and  he  has  n't  any  sisters ;  he  's  really  quite 
desirable." 

Leslie  felt  very  miserable,  owing  to  the  other 
man's  close  proximity  and  acute  hearing.  She  had 
only  made  the  merest  beginning  with  him,  and  she 
really  was  n't  quite  ready  to  make  another  fresh 
start. 

"  I  '11  manage  so  you  see  a  good  bit  of  one  another," 


LESLIE  AND  THE  MOTOR  63 

said  Lady  Rillingham,  "and  if  you  like  him  I'll 
manage  so  you  're  together  constantly." 

Just  here  they  whirled  up  on  their  own  ridgy 
avenue. 

"So  pleasant  to  be  at  home  again,"  Leslie  said 
faintly.  She  felt  that  that  was  a  perfectly  safe  state- 
ment to  make  in  any  case. 


CHAPTER  VII 

LESLIE  AND  ANOTHER  MAN 

DRESSING  for  dinner  that  night  Leslie  was  not  happy. 
She  thought  perhaps  it  was  the  long  ride  to  Dorchester, 
but  she  felt  also  that  perhaps  she  cared  for  Hugo  too 
much.  If  she  cared  for  him  at  all  any  more,  it  would 
be  that  much  too  much,  for  Captain  Melton  had  begun 
to  strike  her  as  a  delightful  possibility.  He  had  begun 
to  look  at  her  in  the  right  way.  There  is  a  right  way  in 
which  a  man  can  look  at  a  woman  and  there  is  a  wrong 
way,  and  Captain  Melton  knew  the  right  way.  Then, 
too,  he  was  so  disagreeable,  and  Leslie  was  the  sort 
of  woman  who  cannot  tell  brutality  from  sincerity, 
nor  cleverness  from  rudeness.  She  felt  really  drawn 
towards  the  captain,  and  under  those  circumstances  it 
would  be  silly  to  break  her  heart  over  Hugo.  Leslie 
was  never  silly.  She  could  n't  break  her  heart.  She 
could  forget  Hugo,  and  she  made  up  her  mind  to  do 
so  at  once. 

It  came  over  her  how  hideous  it  would  be  for  a 


LESLIE  AND  ANOTHER  MAN  65 

woman  to  really  have  her  heart  broken.  She  felt  that 
the  woman  would  have  a  right  to  be  very  angry,  and 
she  frowned  as  she  thought  how  angry.  Then  she 
wondered  if  she  did  love  this  new  man.  Suddenly  she 
remembered  what  Lady  Rillingham  had  said  about  still 
another  new  man  and  felt  her  abyss  deepening.  It  is 
awful  to  have  new  men  come  too  fast.  It  is  like  an 
English  dinner  wrhere  they  always  carry  off  the  plates 
before  one  is  finished.  Leslie  felt  life  to  be  sadly  com- 
plicated. She  sighed,  put  on  her  necklace,  and  went 
down  to  dinner.  On  the  stairs  she  decided  once  and 
for  all  time  that  she  did  not  love  Hugo  and  would  cease 
to  think  about  hun.  It  is  very  dangerous  when  a 
woman  decides  that  she  no  longer  loves  the  man  with 
whom  she  is  in  love,  and  that  she  will  henceforth  cease 
to  think  about  him.  It 's  bad  for  any  other  man  who 
may  be  around  and  happen  to  like  her.  It 's  his  great 
chance,  and  if  luck  is  against  him  he  sometimes  gets 
the  woman,  —  or  if  luck  is  for  him. 

The  new  man  that  arrived  that  evening  was  a  very 
nice  man  indeed.  He  was  n't  as  big  as  Hugo,  but  he 
was  better-looking  than  Captain  Melton  and  a  better 
fellow.  He  had  many  advantages  over  the  latter, 
whatever  might  be  his  general  status  as  to  the  former. 
He  was  an  older  man  and  a  wiser  man,  glad  to  hear 


66  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

that  Leslie  was  a  widow  (for  he  did  n't  approve  of 
divorce  any  more  than  Sir  Edward  did),  but  ready  to 
like  her  whatever  she  was,  directly  he  caught  the 
first  glimpse  of  her.  The  instant  that  he  saw  her  he 
thought,  with  a  pleasant  thrill,  that  if  he  liked  her  he 
might  marry  her.  Many  men  and  women  meet  one 
another  on  some  such  basis. 

There  were  a  good  many  strange  people  to  dinner, 
some  with  their  hair  done  very  remarkably  indeed. 
There  was  the  girl  who  had  been  designed  for  Waltheof , 
only  Waltheof  declined  his  own  part  in  the  pattern. 
Leslie  felt  sorry  for  the  girl,  who  had  apparently  been 
designed  for  nothing  else. 

Dinner  lasted  a  long  while,  and  the  new  man  sat 
far  away,  and  she  did  not  know  which  he  was  for  ever 
so  long.  Captain  Melton  sat  on  her  left  and  was  very 
good  indeed. 

But  his  savor  seemed  to  have  departed,  somehow. 
Coming  events  were  perhaps  already  casting  their 
shadows  before.  Finally, 

"What  do  you  think  of  Woman's  Suffrage?"  the 
captain  said,  and  that  ended  his  standing  in  Leslie's 
eyes.  The  weather  is  a  bright  new  topic  to  launch  in 
England  compared  to  Woman's  Suffrage  just  now. 
Leslie  decided  she  would  n't  marry  so  stupid  a  con- 


67 

versationalist  under  any  circumstances.  It  would  be 
better  to  be  unrequited  by  Hugo.  She  felt  a  sudden 
sympathy  with  the  world's  judgment  of  Captain 
Melton. 

"  I  do  wonder  what  sort  of  a  woman  you  '11  marry," 
she  said,  savagely  stabbing  her  bird  in  the  breast. 

"But  I've  married,"  said  Melton.  "You  don't 
mean  to  say  you  don't  know  that?  I  married  ten 
years  ago." 

Leslie  nearly  fell  into  the  sauce  they  were  just  then 
offering  her.  "No,  I  did  n't  know  it,"  she  said. 

"How  droll.    But  you  're  married,  too?" 

"But  I'm  a  widow." 

"Well,  I  'm  a  widower." 

Then  she  was  angry. 

Melton  seemed  vastly  amused  over  this  little 
contretemps. 

"Have  you  any  children?"  she  asked  presently. 

"No;  have  you?" 

"No." 

Their  mutual  loneliness  did  not  seem  to  bring  them 
any  closer  together.  Leslie  was  very  glad  when  she 
could  leave  his  side.  Even  the  acrostic  seemed  pref- 
erable to  a  man  so  full  of  surprises.  She  wondered 
that  she  could  ever  have  liked  him  for  a  minute. 


68  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Mrs.  Keppie  hooked  on  to  her  in  the  corridor  and 
asked  her  if  her  pearls  were  real.  Leslie  resented  this, 
since  they  were  not. 

"I  have  some  real  pearls,"  she  said;  "but  they  're 
in  a  safe  hi  New  York." 

"I  thought  all  Americans  had  real  pearls,"  said 
Mrs.  Keppie,  who  did  n't  believe  hi  the  safe  hi  New 
York,  and  thought  Leslie  lacking  hi  brains  not  to 
have  lied  when  she  could  have  done  it  so  easily. 

When  the  men  came  into  the  drawing-room  the 
new  man  came  and  sat  down  by  Leslie.  Mrs.  Keppie 
thereupon  moved  away. 

"I  wish  you  would  tell  me  something  at  once," 
said  the  new  man.  "Are  you  hi  love?  I  know  that 
you  're  married." 

Leslie  was  so  startled  that  she  could  hardly  breathe. 

"I  don't  want  to  trouble  to  begin  the  game  if 
you  're  hi  love,"  said  the  new  man.  "  It 's  a  game 
I  'm  good  at,  but  if  you  're  in  love  and  concealing  it, 
I  've  gotten  past  the  age  that  thinks  all 's  fair  —  even 
hi  war." 

She  looked  at  him.  "What 's  your  name?"  she 
said,  "and  how  old  are  you?" 

"My  name's  Jlalph  Witney,"  he  answered,  "and 
I  'm  forty-one." 


LESLIE  AND  ANOTHER  MAN  69 

"I  think  1 7m  still  in  love,"  said  Leslie  slowly,  "but 
I  'm  not  sure.  Anyway,  I  Ve  decided  not  to  ever 
see  him  again." 

"Then  you  're  not  engaged?"  said  Witney. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Leslie  readily,  "he  never  asked  me. 
It  was  just  —  just  —  just  — 

"I  see,"  said  the  man;  "never  mind  explaining.  I 
understand  perfectly." 

The  rest  were  all  playing  bridge,  all  except  Melton 
and  Waltheof,  who  got  left  out  in  some  curiously  en- 
tangled manner.  Leslie,  on  the  sofa  by  the  fire,  was 
amused  and  interested.  She  liked  this  man  very  much. 
He  agreed  to  drive  her  to  see  the  meet  next  day.  She 
felt  a  lovely  sense  of  getting  the  better  of  Hugo.  It  was 
really  exhilarating  to  be  so  free  from  thrall. 

About  eleven  o'clock  Waltheof  came  into  the  room 
and  dragged  a  seat  up  near  the  sofa.  "Well,  that 's 
over,"  he  said,  rubbing  his  hands;  "my,  but  the  night 
is  bitter!" 

"Where  have  you  been?"  Leslie  asked. 

"  I  drove  with  Melton  to  the  station." 

"Who  was  he,  anyway?"  asked  Witney. 

"He  wasn't  such  a  bad  sort,"  Waltheof  said  care- 
lessly, looking  into  the  fire;  "only  he  lacked  tact." 
Then  he  rose  and  joined  the  bridge  group. 


70  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Well,  I  can  see  that  Waltheof  isn't  the  man," 
said  Witney.  "You  haven't  much  ability  at  con- 
cealing your  feelings,  have  you?" 

"Oh,  I  haven't  any  at  all,"  said  Leslie;  "but  of 
course  Mr.  Rillingham  is  n't  the  man.  I  don't  believe 
I  care  any  more  about  the  man,  anyway.  Only, 
when  I  think  of  caring  for  any  one  else  —  I  —  I  'm 
afraid.  I  don't  know  what  I  'm  afraid  of.  But 
I  'm  afraid." 

"Try  to  explain,"  said  Witney,  encouragingly. 

"  But  there  's  nothing  to  explain.  It 's  no  use, 
anyhow." 

"Where  is  he?" 

Leslie  looked  for  a  minute  as  if  she  was  seriously 
considering  whether  to  tell  or  not.  "I  don't  know 
where  he  is,"  she  said  finally. 

"Have  you  known  him  long?" 

"About  a  year." 

"You  know  a  lot  about  him,  of  course." 

"  Yes,  I  know  ever  so  many  people  who  know  him." 

"And  you  really  think  you  care  about  him?" 

Leslie  considered.  "Well,  I  did  think  so,"  she  said 
finally. 

"What  are  his  attractions?    Is  he  handsome?" 

"  Y  —  yes.    I  think  he  's  handsome." 


LESLIE  AND  ANOTHER  MAN  71 

"What  do  you  like  best  about  him?" 

She  considered.  "He  can  make  me  mind;  and 
then,  too,  he'  s  so  big ;  I  feel  so  safe  with  him." 

"Has  he  saved  you  from  danger  often?" 

"N  —  no." 

"You  'd  better  give  it  all  over,"  said  Witney,  with 
the  faintest  possible  note  of  authority  in  his  voice. 
"I'm  quite  sure  that  he  isn't  at  all  the  man  for 
you." 

Leslie  was  nothing  in  the  world  but  a  very  feminine 
woman.  "Don't  you  think  so?"  she  said  faintly,  de- 
pressed by  this  summary  dismissal  of  her  case. 

"I  know  it,"  said  Witney,  who  was  a  more  than 
ordinarily  masculine  man  and  always  sponged  his 
slate  before  beginning  a  fresh  sum. 

Leslie  hesitated  about  entirely  giving  up  her  love 
on  such  short  notice. 

"I  imagine  he  bothers  you  a  lot.  Does  he  like  to 
bother  you?" 

"Y  —  yes;  he  likes  to  be  unaccountable." 

"You  don't  want  to  marry  a  man  that  likes  to  be 
unaccountable,"  said  Witney. 

"Well,  he's  never  asked  me  to  marry  him,"  said 
Leslie.  "I  told  you  that  before." 

"You  can't  marry  a  man  who  never  asks  you,  you 


72  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

know,"  said  Witney.  "I  'd  give  it  all  over,  and  think 
no  more  about  him." 

It  sounded  very  feasible.  She  looked  at  the  floor 
and  then  she  looked  at  Witney.  It  seemed  the  only 
sensible  course  to  follow. 

They  talked  of  other  things  and  had  a  truly  lovely 
time.  They  made  all  sorts  of  plans  for  the  next  three 
days. 

But  the  next  morning  one  of  the  under  housemaids 
came  down  with  the  scarlet  fever,  and  the  whole  party 
exploded  in  thin  air. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Keppie  and  Leslie  went  up  to  London 
on  the  same  train.  Witney  went  too.  There  were 
five  days  before  the  date  set  for  the  visit  to  Mrs. 
Lewes  in  Kenelm,  and  Leslie  saw  a  great  deal  of 
Witney.  She  saw  nothing  at  all  of  Guilford,  because 
he  really  had  gone  to  Paris,  or  somewhere  else.  At 
any  rate,  he  was  n't  in  London. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

LESLIE  AND  HER  DOUBTS 

BY  the  end  of  the  five  days  in  London  Leslie  was 
more  than  ever  uncertain  as  to  whom  she  was  in  love 
with.  She  felt  quite  giddy.  It  is  difficult  to  be  im- 
partial when  one  of  the  men  is  in  Paris,  even  if  one  is 
not  silly,  and  Leslie  —  let  it  never  be  forgotten  — 
was  not  silly. 

She  went  to  take  tea  with  Witney  at  the  Carlton, 
and  she  looked  so  bewitchingly  pretty  that  the  casual 
observer  would  have  surmised  her  next  surname 
without  overstudy. 

"He  doesn't  write  often,  does  he?"  said  Witney, 
who  was  clever  enough  to  always  keep  her  deadly 
weary  of  the  subject  of  Hugo. 

"N  —  no,"  she  said;  "he's  never  been  great  at 
letter-writing." 

"  Perhaps  he  is  n't  reduced  to  such  poor  means  of 
keeping  his  memory  alive  in  his  friends'  minds?" 

Leslie  did  n't  know  what  to  say. 


74  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Women  are  very  odd,"  said  Witney  thoughtfully. 
"  You  don't  really  care  anything  about  that  man ;  you 
just  fancy  that  you  do." 

"Do  you  really  think  that?"  she  said  earnestly. 

"Think  it!    I  know  it!" 

She  looked  at  him.  "He  's  always  been  very  nice 
to  me,"  she  said  dubiously. 

"Has  he  ever  made  desperate  love  to  you?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  call  desperate  love.  He 's 
made  me  love  him  desperately.  Is  n't  that  enough?" 

"He  's  a  gentleman  whose  self-control  I  'm  very  far 
from  admiring,  then,"  said  Witney,  with  emphasis. 
"You  'd  better  give  him  up." 

Leslie  looked  more  than  ever  dubious. 

"  You  don't  really  know  what  love  is,"  said  Witney. 

She  looked  at  him  again,  this  time  less  kindly.  No 
woman  likes  to  be  told  that  she  does  n't  know  what 
love  is.  A  prettier  way  of  putting  it  is  to  add  "up 
to  now." 

There  was  a  pause.  He  wondered  if  she  were  going 
to  say  "What  is  it?"  but  she  did  n't.  After  all,  per- 
haps, she  was  wise ;  the  Carlton  with  all  its  charms  is 
a  very  public  place.  There  are  only  those  two  little 
tables  behind  the  palms  and  they  are  open  on  three 
tides. 


LESLIE  AND  HER  DOUBTS  75 

"I  'm  going  down  to  Kenelm  day  after  to-morrow," 
she  said  finally. 

Perhaps  as  a  reply  to  his  assertion  it  did  as  well  as 
anything. 

"Where  is  that?"  the  Englishman  asked,  after  an. 
instant's  consideration. 

"You  change  at  Snipham." 

"  I  don't,  for  I  Ve  never  been  there." 

"Well,  I  change  at  Snipham,  then." 

"Whose  place  is  it?" 

"It  isn't  anybody's  place;  they  want  to  get  out 
of  London  for  Christmas  week,  and  so  they  're  taking 
a  party  down  there." 

"Down  where?" 

'To  an  inn.  The  Guardian  Inn."  She  knew  aJI 
about  it  now. 

"Is  it  near  the  Downs?" 

"What  Downs?" 

"The  Sussex  Downs." 

"I  don't  know.    I  don't  know  anything  about  H. 
I  only  know  that  I  'm  asked  and  that  I  can't  take 
maid." 

"Why  not?" 

"  There  's  no  room  for  her." 

"Ah,  the  Guardian's  scope  is  limited?" 


76  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"It  seems  so." 

"  I  Jm  afraid  you  '11  find  it  very  cold,"  said  Witney. 

"What,  in  an  inn?" 

"Oh,  dear,  yes." 

Leslie  looked  sober ;  she  had  quite  forgotten  about 
the  cold. 

"But  they  are  Americans,"  she  said;  "they  '11  be 
sure  to  be  warm." 

"They  may  find  it  a  task  beyond  their  powers," 
said  Witney.  "  I  have  known  Americans  who  could  n't 
possibly  keep  warm  in  Europe.  I  've  heard  them  men- 
tioning the  fact  among  themselves." 

Leslie  laughed  and  took  a  bit  of  cake. 

"If  I  'm  too  cold  I  can  return,"  she  said. 

"What,  if  you  're  a  guest?  Oh,  yes,  you  can  have 
a  telegram  sent  you,  of  course." 

Somehow  she  felt  suddenly  singularly  lukewarm  as 
to  her  Kenelm  invitation.  "But  it 's  too  late  to  get 
out  of  it  now,"  she  thought,  a  bit  dismally. 

"  Shan't  I  take  you  down  ?  "  Witney  suggested.  "  It 
is  n't  much  of  a  run." 

Her  enthusiasm  rose  like  a  geyser.  "Oh,  that 
would  be  sport,"  she  exclaimed  joyfully.  "But  what 
would  you  do  after  you  got  there?"  she  paused  to 
add,  somewhat  appalled. 


LESLIE  AND  HER  DOUBTS  77 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  Stay  at  the  Guardian,  per- 
haps?" 

"But  if  there  is  n't  room  for  Rose?" 

"There  would  be  room  for  me." 

Leslie  did  n't  stop  to  consider  the  difficulties ;  she 
thought  that  it  would  be  lovely.  She  had  n't  known 
Witney  much  over  a  week  yet,  but  she  already  hated 
to  be  parted  from  him.  Leslie  was  a  woman  of  strong 
—  friendships. 

"  I  '11  get  my  things  thrown  together  to-night,"  the 
man  went  on,  "and  I'll  meet  you  at  what  time 
to-morrow?" 

"I  go  from  Victoria  at  half-past  one." 

"What  an  abominable  hour  to  start." 

"But  I  couldn't  get  there  for  lunch  and  I  can 
for  tea." 

"I  see." 

So  it  was  settled,  and  it  was  an  hour  or  so  after  she 
had  been  left  at  home  before  she  began  to  feel  that 
maybe  she  was  thickening  her  plot  a  bit  too  much. 
Also  she  felt  uneasy  over  Hugo.  She  could  n't  seem 
to  altogether  recover  from  Hugo.  It  is  very  difficult  to 
be  a  woman.  She  recognized  this  upon  rinding  a  note 
from  Rita  Coghlan  stating  that  the  fortune-teller  was 
set  for  next  day.  Her  face  fell  most  unaffectedly  at 


78  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

this  piece  of  news ;  there  is  nothing  quite  so  distress- 
ing as  to  go  to  a  fortune-teller  when  you  do  not  know 
what  you  want  her  to  say.  Under  those  circumstances 
she  is  prone  to  pronounce  your  character  vacillating 
and,  after  much  wandering  of  her  mind,  describe  quite 
the  wrong  man. 

Leslie  retired,  feeling  very  blue.  She  felt  that  per- 
haps she  had  underrated  her  constancy.  "  I  dare  say 
I  really  am  broken-hearted  after  all,"  she  reflected; 
it  was  quite  her  favorite  reflection  when  slightly  de- 
pressed. Then  she  thought  of  Captain  Melton.  Then 
she  wondered  if  it  would  be  cold  at  Morgenlicht. 
Then  she  wondered  if  Mrs.  Lewes  really  did  for  one 
second  suppose  that  she  would  marry  her  brother. 
She  wondered  who  else  would  be  down  there.  She 
wondered  if  the  others  would  be  queer.  The  Lewes 
were  given  to  queer  people,  owing  to  reasons  narrowly 
connected  with  their  nationality.  She  wondered  where 
Hugo  was.  She  wondered  what  Witney  was  doing. 
Then  she  turned  over  on  her  other  side  and  went  to 
sleep. 

Rita  came  to  lunch  next  day.  "  I  don't  believe  I  '11 
have  mine  told,"  she  said,  adjusting  her  hat  before 
the  mirror;  "it 's  a  guinea,  and  I  need  a  guinea  for 
something  else  just  now." 


79 

"Why  did  you  pick  out  a  guinea  one?"  said  Leslie. 
"The  five-shilling  ones  do  just  as  well." 

"  I  did  n't  pick  her  out ;  the  address  was  given  me. 
I  did  n't  know  how  much  it  was  until  I  wrote  for  the 
appointment,  and  she  put  her  card  in  with  her  answer." 

"  Oh,  dear ! "  said  Leslie  briefly. 

"I  found  a  man  to  go  with  us,  too,"  said  Rita. 

This  brightened  up  the  atmosphere  directly. 

"Who  is  he?"  Leslie  asked. 

"  He  's  quite  nice.  And  he  's  that  age  that  he 
won't  object  to  anything  crazy  for  fear  we  '11  think 
him  old." 

Leslie  desired  to  know  the  name  of  this  agreeably 
constituted  being  at  once. 

"Delauney  Dane,"  said  Rita.  "He  's  nobody  new; 
we  've  known  him  for  ages ;  he  's  got  a  lot  of  money." 

"But  he  's  not  to  pay  the  fortune-teller  for  me,  you 
know,"  Leslie  stipulated. 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid,  my  dear ;  he  's  such  a 
believer  in  Women's  Rights  that  if  you  want  to  pay 
the  cab  fare  he  '11  not  feel  sensitive  over  it." 

"  I  think  we  'd  better  take  an  omnibus,"  said  Leslie ; 
"where  is  it,  anyhow?" 

"  It 's  a  good  bit  beyond  Hammersmith.  You  know 
where  Hammersmith  is,  don't  you?'" 


80  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"I  know  where  Chelsea  is  and  where  the  British 
Museum  is." 

"It  isn't  in  that  direction.  We  can  take  an  om- 
nibus very  nicely,  though.  Just  out  here  by  the 
park." 

"  I  always  like  to  ride  on  top  of  an  omnibus,"  said 
Leslie.  "You  feel  superior  to  even  the  policeman 
there." 

Mr.  Delauney  Dane  called  for  them  soon  after 
lunch.  He  was  a  very  tall,  thin  man,  with  a  glass  and 
a  stick.  Leslie  thought  that  he  was  an  Englishman 
for  quite  a  while. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  Mr.  Dane  was  accompanying 
them  for  no  reason  on  earth  except  to  prove  his  youth. 
He  regarded  them  both  with  a  regard  which,  when  he 
wasn't  controlling  it  carefully,  showed  plainly  that 
he  thought  them  very  silly.  When  he  learned  that 
they  were  going  on  an  omnibus,  he  clearly  disap- 
proved, and  said  that  he  "hadn't  been  on  an  omni- 
bus for  —  some  time." 

"  If  the  fortune-teller  tells  me  that  I  'm  going  to 
marry  him,  I  shall  be  mad,"  said  Leslie,  while  they 
were  getting  their  wraps.  "I  think  that  I  had  better 
have  picked  out  a  man  to  go  with  us.  I  know  nice 
men." 


LESLIE  AND  HER  DOUBTS  81 

"But  he  's  so  amusing/'  said  Rita,  not  at  all  bad- 
tempered  over  this  slur  at  her  circle  of  acquaintances, 
"and  if  he  could  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing  it 
would  n't  really  be  as  funny  as  to  see  him  swallowing 
such  acute  disapproval  all  the  time.  He  's  only  going 
just  so  as  to  be  with  us,  you  know." 

"But  that 's  all  that  men  ever  do  anything  for," 
said  Leslie,  starting  back  to  the  sitting-room. 

They  all  three  went  down  and  out  into  the  street. 

"I  really  think  we  'd  better  take  a  taxi,"  said  Mr. 
Dane. 

"No,  indeed,"  said  Rita;  "you  shan't  go  throwing 
your  money  away  like  that." 

"Well,  if  you  really  don't  want  to,"  said  the 
gentleman;  "but  at  least  let  us  go  inside  the 
omnibus." 

"I  can't,"  said  Leslie;  "my  hat  breaks  against  the 
top." 

"I  '11  tell  you  what  we  '11  do,"  said  Rita;  "we  '11 
go  on  top,  and  you  go  inside." 

But  even  Mr.  Dane  would  n't  hear  to  that. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Rita,  who  possessed  a  readily 
constructive  imagination,  "we  '11  go  on  top,  and  you 
come,  too,  and  pretend  you  don't  know  us.  And  then 
we  '11  pretend  to  get  acquainted." 


82  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Mr.  Dane  was  plainly  much  shocked  at  this 
idea. 

"Well,  then,  we  '11  just  go  as  we  are,"  said  Rita. 

The  Hammersmith  bus  came  lumbering  up  Picca- 
dilly just  then,  and  they  hopped  and  clung  and 
climbed  to  place,  to  Mr.  Dane's  great  and  evident 
disgust. 

Leslie  sat  with  a  forlorn  man  studying  botany, 
Rita  sat  behind  with  a  stout  lady,  and  Mr.  Dane 
sat  across  the  way.  Rita  leaned  towards  him 
directly  they  were  seated  and  said,  "Oh,  Alexander, 
did  you  remember  to  leave  the  money  for  the 
chimney-sweep  ?  " 

This  was  too  much  for  Leslie,  who  continued  to  be 
affected  by  fits  and  starts  until  some  time  after  they 
had  entered  Bayswater  Road. 

The  stout  lady  and  the  botanical  gentleman  getting 
down  there,  they  all  got  together  again  and  discussed 
fortune-telling  with  great  earnestness. 

"  You  must  n't  mind  if  she  tells  you  you  're  to  marrj 
one  of  us,"  said  Rita  to  Mr.  Dane;  "they  so  often  do 
that." 

"I  never  believe  in  anything  of  the  sort,"  said  their 
escort,  with  emphasis. 

"No,  I  wouldn't,"  said  Rita,  "because,  after  all, 


LESLIE  AND  HER  DOUBTS  83 

marriage  is  just  a  side  issue,  isn't  it?  And  what  we 
really  are  taking  all  this  trouble  for  is  to  find  out  about 
the  big  things  in  life." 

"For  instance?"  said  Mr.  Dane  interrogatively. 

"Why,  whether  I  shall  make  a  success  of  painting 
or  not,"  said  Miss  Coghlan;  "things  of  that  sort." 

"  I  did  n't  know  that  you  painted,"  said  Leslie. 

"I  haven't  begun  yet,"  said  her  friend;  "but  if  a 
fortune-teller  told  me  that  I  would,  I  would  at  once." 

Mr.  Dane  looked  very  serious  indeed  at  this,  and 
opened  and  shut  his  gloved  hand  as  if  feeling  of  his 
own  future  privately. 

It  was  a  tremendously  long  way  out  there,  and 
Leslie  never  had  dreamed  that  London  was  so  big. 
They  had  to  get  down  and  walk  to  the  right  at  last, 
and  when  they  reached  the  house  the  fortune-teller 
was  out. 

"But  I  had  an  appointment,"  said  Rita. 

The  maid  looked  at  the  card  which  she  produced 
and  pointed  out  that  it  said  Thursday,  whereas 
to-day  was  Tuesday. 

Thereupon  they  went  home.  Leslie,  who  had  ex- 
pected to  have  her  difficulties  all  settled  for  her  through 
the  payment  of  one  guinea,  was  almost  as  much  dis- 
gusted as  Mr.  Dane  himself. 


84  HOW  LESLIE   LOVED 

"The  idea  of  dragging  us  'way  out  there  for  noth- 
ing," she  said;  "you  are  too  careless  for  words." 

"Never  mind,  you  know  another  man  now,"  said 
Rita,  who  was  not  easily  crushed,  "  and  that 's  always 
worth  some  effort." 

"Effort!"  said  Leslie.    She  was  really  vexed. 


CHAPTER  IX 

LESLIE  GOES  DOWN  TO   KENELM 

THE  next  day  dawned  about  ten  o'clock  and  was 
very  nasty  under  foot,  especially  in  the  Victoria 
Station.  Leslie  and  Witney  found  their  train,  and 
the  porter  found  them  even  in  spite  of  a  dense  yellow 
fog.  The  train  pulled  out  on  time,  and  before 
they  got  to  Clapham  they  were  getting  on  very  well 
indeed. 

"I  shan't  trouble  you  much,"  said  Witney,  "I'm 
going  to  hunt.  But  I'll  be  there  if  you  want  me." 

Like  all  Englishmen,  he  had  a  way  of  referring  to 
Americans  as  if  on  special  occasions  they  were  liable 
to  leap  and  rend  even  their  guests. 

"I  —  I  don't  quite  think  you 'd  better  stay  at  the 
Guardian,"  said  Leslie,  beginning  to  perceive  the 
difficulties  of  her  position  as  they  drew  more  into 
the  focus  of  the  present.  "Can't  you  stay  some- 
where else?" 

"Yes,"  said  Witney.      "I  can  stay  at   the  Man 


86  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

and  the  Hen.     I'm  told  that  it's  as  good  as  the 
Guardian." 

Leslie  liked  the  idea  of  his  staying  at  the  Man  and 
the  Hen  very  much  indeed.  "You  see,"  she  said 
hesitatingly,  "I'm  awfully  afraid  of  Mrs.  Lewes,  my 
hostess.  She's  —  she's  —  she's  rather  peculiar." 

"Yes?"  said  Witney  interrogatively. 

"Yes;  she  would  think  —  well,  she  would  think 
you  came  down  on  my  account.  She  would  surely 
think  that." 

"Would  that  be  so  unbelievable?" 

Leslie  blushed.  "To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  should 
hate  to  have  her  think  that,"  she  confessed;  "she's 
very  strict  indeed." 

"Is  she  a  friend  of  Guilford's?" 

"N — no.    She  doesn't  even  know  him." 

"Has  she  a  son?" 

"No." 

"A  brother,  I  mean?" 

Leslie  looked  up  in  surprise.  "Why,  yes;  how  did 
you  guess?"  She  couldn't  at  all  see  how  all  men 
hit  on  that  same  line  of  questioning. 

"I  thought  from  your  description  that  she  might 
have  a  brother.  Is  he  down  at  the  Guardian  too?" 

"  Yes,  he  lives  with  her  —  with  them,  I  mean." 


LESLIE  GOES  DOWN  TO  KENELM       87 

They  had  to  get  out  at  Snipham  and  change  and 
wait  twenty  minutes  besides.  They  looked  into  the 
waiting-room  and  then  decided  to  walk  up  and  down. 

"What  sort  of  a  Christmas  party  is  it?"  Witney 
asked. 

"About  six  or  eight,  I  think.    Not  so  very  big." 

"I  suppose  that  you  know  them  all  very  well 
indeed?" 

Leslie  considered.  "No,  I  don't  think  that  I  do," 
she  said,  after  a  while. 

They  drew  near  to  Kenelm  about  four  o'clock, 
English  schedules  being  still  much  disarranged  by 
the  floods  of  school-children. 

Leslie  grew  very  nervous.  "I  don't  know  what  to 
do  about  you,"  she  said;  "some  one  will  surely  meet 
me,  and  what  shall  I  say?" 

"Say  I 'ma  friend." 

"Yes,  but  Mrs.  Lewes  will  wonder  why  you  came 
down  with  me.  She'll  —  she'll  think  it  looks  queer." 

"Shall  I  go  over  in  the  other  corner  and  be  a 
stranger?  "  suggested  Witney. 

Without  going  into  any  consideration  of  future 
complications  Leslie  gratefully  accepted  this  sug- 
gestion. Witney  separated  their  hand-luggage  and 
got  out  a  newspaper  to  be  absorbed  in  when  the 


88  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

train  should  stop.  But  he  forgot  to  return  her  keys 
which  he  was  carrying,  as  she  had  no  pocket. 

When  the  train  did  stop,  Frederick  Lewes,  the 
dog,  and  a  man  in  attendance  were  waiting.  The 
door  opened  and  Leslie  alighted.  Witney  was  fold- 
ing his  newspaper  with  the  placid  air  of  a  most  com- 
plete stranger. 

"Allow  me  to  hand  you  your  bag,  madame,"  he 
said  politely. 

Leslie  wanted  to  laugh,  but  Mr.  Lewes  was  shaking 
hands  with  her,  and  she  was  afraid  that  he  would 
think  that  she  was  laughing  at  him.  Mr.  Lewes,  who 
was  a  large,  pompous  gentleman  with  bushy  side- 
whiskers  and  a  very  red  face,  had  a  great  aversion 
to  being  laughed  at.  He  was  terribly  afraid  that  he 
was  funny,  and  he  could  n't  bear  it.  The  man  in 
attendance  did  n't  move ;  he  had  never  been  a  man 
in  attendance  before,  and  all  that  he  had  learned  so 
far  was  that  he  must  always  ride  on  the  box.  The 
dog  stood  mournfully  by.  He  was  a  huge  dog,  and 
had  been  hugely  car-sick  coming  from  Brighton  the 
day  before. 

"Dabbs,  just  take  these  things  to  the  cab  —  I 
mean  the  carriage,"  said  Mr.  Lewes.  He  was  n't  any 
more  used  to  being  a  man  attended  than  Dabbs  was 


LESLIE  GOES  DOWN  TO  KENELM      89 

to  attending,  but  he  was  more  interested  in  learning 
the  rules.  Witney  delivered  Leslie's  things  into  the 
hands  of  Dabbs  and  then  went  off  with  her  keys 
still  in  his  pocket. 

"He  will  see  to  your  luggage,"  Mr.  Lewes  began; 
but  just  then  some  one  accidentally  hit  the  dog,  who 
turned  tigerish  instantly. 

"Oh,  dear,"  said  Leslie,  "if  he  was  really  mad 
what  could  you  do?" 

"I  couldn't  do  a  thing,"  said  Lewes  proudly; 
"nobody  could.  Come,  Earl  of  Arran." 

Earl  of  Arran  was  the  dog,  who,  after  his  one  little 
spurt  of  temper,  had  collapsed  so  thoroughly  that 
his  knees  shook  under  him. 

They  went  out  to  the  carriage.  Dabbs  was  already 
on  the  box  and  looked  down  upon  them  with  interest. 

"If  you  don't  mind  I'll  put  the  dog  in  first,"  said 
Lewes.  "  He  likes  to  look  out  of  the  window,  and  he 's 
too  big  to  turn  around,  so  we  always  put  him  in  first." 

Leslie  stood  back  while  the  Earl  of  Arran  got  in 
first. 

"Don't  step  on  his  feet  when  you  get  hi,"  Lewes 
cautioned;  "he  always  snaps  if  any  one  steps  on  his 
feet,  and  we  can't  really  blame  him,  you  know." 

"Perhaps  you'd  better  get  in  next,"  said  Leslie. 


90 

"  Well,  perhaps  I  had.  Dabbs,  get  down  and  shut 
the  door." 

Dabbs  got  down.  Lewes  got  in;  Leslie  got  in. 
Dabbs  shut  the  door,  and  then  Dabbs  got  up  and 
they  rolled  away. 

"Oh,  my  trunks!"  Leslie  exclaimed  suddenly. 
"Who  saw  to  them?" 

Lewes,  who  was  supporting  the  dog's  head  on  his 
bosom,  started  slightly. 

"Can't  we  send  down  from  the  hotel,  perhaps?" 
Leslie  suggested. 

"We  can  send  Dabbs  just  as  soon  as  we  get 
there,"  said  Lewes;  "he  can  see  to  them.  That's 
part  of  his  regular  duties,  you  know." 

Leslie  felt  far  from  sure,  but  did  not  care  to  dis- 
cuss the  question. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  Guardian  Dabbs  got 
down  at  once,  and  went  straight  into  the  house  and 
shut  the  door  after  him. 

"He  ought  not  to  do  that,"  said  Lewes,  really 
vexed.  "Just  sit  still  for  a  little  and  see  if  he  does  n't 
come  back?" 

They  sat  still  for  many  minutes,  but  Dabbs  did  not 
return.  After  a  while  the  inn  porter  came  and  took 
them  out,  with  one  eye  fixed  anxiously  on  the  Earl 


LESLIE  GOES  DOWN  TO  KENELM      91 

of  Arran  all  the  time.  Lewes  and  the  dog  led 
the  way  in.  Leslie  and  the  porter  followed  them 
upstairs. 

"Arabella  will  want  to  see  you  at  once,"  said 
Arabella's  husband.  "I'll  show  you  her  sitting- 
room,  and  you  can  go  in  while  I  find  Dabbs.  I  must 
speak  to  him  severely.  He  should  n't  get  out  and 
go  off  in  that  way.  I  can't  overlook  it ;  not  possibly." 

The  sitting-room  door  was  half  open,  and  Leslie 
went  in.  Mrs.  Lewes,  a  personage  fully  as  imposing 
as  her  husband,  was  seated  by  the  tea-tray,  a  gentle- 
man with  mirthful  eyes  stood  before  the  fire,  and  a 
lady  wept  at  the  window. 

"You're  very  late,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes,  looking  up 
severely.  "How  do  you  do?  Why  didn't  you  take 
your  hat  off  before  you  came  in?  You  know  I  never 
like  to  see  any  one  in  a  hat.  Maurice,  press  the  bell 
for  tea.  Cecilia,  stop  sobbing;  you've  cried  long 
enough." 

Maurice  pressed  the  bell,  but  Cecilia  continued  to 
sob.  Leslie  went  around  the  table  and  received  a 
solemn  hand-shake  of  welcome. 

"  Draw  up  a  chair  and  sit  down,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes. 
"Maurice,  press  the  bell  again.  Where  can  tea  be!" 

Maurice  pressed  the  bell  again. 


92  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Shall  I  go  and  take  off  my  hat?"  Leslie  asked. 

"No,  not  now.  We've  all  seen  the  way  you  look 
with  it  on,  so  you  'd  only  make  tea  later  than  you  've 
made  it  already.  Where  are  the  rest?  Maurice, 
press  that  bell." 

"Shall  I  go  and  look  for  them?"  asked  the  man 
with  the  mirthful  eyes.  "I'm  great  on  getting  a 
party  together  when  it's  tea-time." 

"No,  you  won't  come  back.  Cecilia,  if  you  can't 
stop  crying,  I  must  ask  you  to  leave  us." 

Cecilia  didn't  wait  to  be  asked  a  second  time; 
she  fled  that  instant. 

"Who  is  she?"  Leslie  asked. 

"Why,  my  dear,  she's  just  a  friend  —  nothing  hi 
the  world  but  a  friend,  and  she  expects  to  be  treated 
like  a  princess.  I've  just  had  a  good  talk  with  her 
and  —  Maurice,  I  wish  you'd  leave  the  room.  Press 
the  bell  again  first." 

Maurice  pressed  the  bell  again  first  and  left  the 
room. 

"Sit  down,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes  then,  with 
a  deep  sigh.  "I  don't  want  to  burden  you  with  my 
troubles,  but  really  I  'm  quite  used  up.  Do  you  know 
this  house  was  built  over  five  hundred  years  ago, 
and  we  did  n't  know  a  thing  about  it  until  last  night. 


LESLIE  GOES  DOWN  TO  KENELM      93 

It's  very  cold  and  turning  colder.  I'm  afraid  the 
dog  will  have  pneumonia.  Don't  you  see  a  change 
in  him?" 

Leslie  shook  her  head.  "But  he  was  looking 
out  of  the  window  all  the  way  up,"  she  said.  "I 
could  n't  see  his  face." 

"Looking  out  of  the  window!  Was  he  really?  I 
must  remember  to  tell  that  at  dinner  to-night.  I 
don't  know  what  we  should  do  without  that  dog; 
he's  the  center  wherever  he  is.  All  the  strangers  in 
the  dining-room  watch  him  every  minute  they're 
eating.  He  does  such  cute  things.  Yesterday  a 
gentleman  was  folding  his  paper,  and  the  dog  took 
his  chop  while  he  wasn't  looking.  He's  so  bright. 
But,  my  dear,  do  tell  me  something  else  directly; 
how  did  Dabbs  do?" 

"Oh,  he  did  nicely,"  said  Leslie. 

"Did  he  really?  I'm  so  glad.  You  see  he'd  never 
been  a  valet  before,  and  it's  all  new  to  him.  But 
where  is  our  tea?  Do  you  mind  pressing  the  bell  for 
me?" 

Leslie  did  n't  mind,  and  so  she  pressed  the  bell  for 
her. 

"The  poorest  service  I  ever  saw  in  all  my  life," 
observed  Mrs.  Lewes.  "You  see,  they  think  because 


94  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

we  brought  our  own  maid  and  valet  that  they  need  n't 
do  a  thing  for  us." 

Some  one  came  this  time  —  a  meek,  elderly 
man  who  looked  like  a  duke  who  had  seen  better 
days. 

"Roberts,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes  severely,  "mend  the 
fire  and  call  my  maid  and  bring  up  tea  instantly ;  do 
you  hear?" 

The  fallen  duke  trembled  like  an  aspen  and  began 
on  the  fire-mending  as  the  easiest  road  to  prompt 
humility. 

"Leave  that,"  commanded  Mrs.  Lewes;  "get  the 
tea  first,  and  get  Kimberly." 

"Yes,  madame;  very  good,  madame."  The  duke 
disappeared. 

"I  shall  never  do  this  again,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes, 
taking  up  the  sugar-bowl  and  setting  it  down  very 
hard.  "I  shall  have  to  turn  Kimberly  off  as  soon  as 
we  get  back  to  town.  She's  most  remiss.  She  thinks 
because  we  're  hi  a  hotel  she  need  not  see  to  anything. 
I  'm  sitting  between  two  stools  the  whole  tune.  Press 
the  bell  again." 

Leslie  pressed  the  bell  again. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  poor  service  ?  I  think  I  '11  go 
mad.  Where  is  Maurice,  do  you  suppose?  Where 


LESLIE  GOES  DOWN  TO  KENELM      95 

can  he  be  gone  to?"  She  seemed  to  have  quite  for- 
gotten dismissing  him. 

"Who  is  he?"  Leslie  asked. 

"  He 's  a  man  alone  over  here  —  an  American. 
We  did  n't  think  of  asking  him  at  first,  but  we  tried 
to  get  a  graphophone  and  we  could  n't,  so  then  we 
asked  him.  He'll  do  just  as  well.  He's  very  bright. 
But,  I  declare,  where  is  that  tea;  the  dog  will  be 
absolutely  famished ! " 

"Shall  I  ring  the  bell  again?"  Leslie  asked. 

"No,  my  dear,  go  and  get  Kimberly  for  me;  she's 
right  in  the  next  room.  I  shall  be  so  obliged." 

Leslie  went  out  and  to  the  next  door.  It  was 
open,  and  she  paused,  for  she  had  never  seen  anything 
like  the  sight  before  her. 

It  was  a  long,  narrow  room,  without  any  fireplace. 
There  were  two  trunks,  one  with  a  coffee-service 
spread  out  on  it,  and  the  other  heaped  with  clothing, 
boxes  of  biscuit,  bottles  of  wine,  stockings  rolled  and 
mended,  shawls,  pillows,  clothing,  etc.,  etc. 

On  a  mattress  on  the  floor  sat  a  maid,  a  little  scarf 
around  her  shoulders,  and  the  dog's  head  hi  her  lap. 
The  rest  of  the  dog  was  asleep,  and  it  covered  the 
rest  of  the  room.  The  maid  raised  her  hand  in 
peremptory  warning,  and  Leslie  didn't  dare  speak. 


96 

She  went  quickly  out  and  returned  to  the  sitting- 
room,  where  she  recounted  the  details  of  her  expedi- 
tion. Mrs.  Lewes  listened  attentively. 

"  I  expect  the  dog  is  quite  worn  out.  He  hates  to 
go  to  the  station  and  meet  people  unless  it's  some 
one  he  knows  really  intimately.  I  begged  Frederick 
not  to  take  him,  but  Frederick  would  n't  listen  to 
reason.  It's  perfectly  absurd  to  coerce  the  dog  into 
going  to  the  station  when  he  really  does  n't  want  to 
or  need  to.  But  he  must  have  his  tea.  Press  the 
bell,  my  dear." 

Leslie  pressed  the  bell  with  great  vigor,  and  while 
she  was  still  pressing  it  the  fallen  duke  came  running. 

"See  where  every  one  is,"  commanded  Mrs.  Lewes. 

"Yes,  madame,  whom  shall  I  see?" 

"Who?  Why,  Mr.  Lewes  and  Mr.  Phillips,  —  my 
party,  of  course." 

"Yes,  madame." 

"And  bring  tea  immediately !" 

"Yes,  madame."    The  duke  withdrew. 

"I  expect  you  had  better  go  and  take  off  your 
hat,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes.  "It's  not  becoming,  and 
besides  it  makes  me  very  nervous.  You'd  better 
wash,  too,  while  you  're  hi  your  room ;  you  're  sure  to 
need  it  after  that  trip,  you  know." 


LESLIE  GOES  DOWN  TO  KENELM      97 

"I'll  wash  at  once,"  said  Leslie.  She  was  as  glad 
to  get  out  of  the  room  as  every  one  else,  even  if  she 
had  no  notion  of  where  she  should  find  her  own. 

She  went  upstairs  and  wandered  about  an  icy 
corridor  for  a  little,  but  finally,  finding  the  Boots 
and  a  housemaid  in  an  angle  together,  learned  from 
them  that  she  had  n't  any  room  as  yet. 

"Do  you  want  one  with  a  fire?"  asked  the  Boots, 
"because  there  ain't  any  hi  most  of  the  rooms." 

Leslie,  who  had  only  known  Mrs.  Lewes  as  a  very 
hospitable  and  amusing  acquaintance  in  London, 
began  to  wish  that  she  had  never  met  her. 

"Would  you  like  some  hot  water?"  said  the  maid. 

"Yes,  I  should,"  said  Leslie. 

The  maid  and  the  Boots  departed  before  she  had 
time  to  reflect  that  she  had  n't  been  given  a  room, 
after  all.  Most  of  the  bedroom  doors  were  open,  and 
after  walking  up  and  down  viewing  icy  interiors  for 
five  minutes  she  recognized  her  bag  and  case  of 
sticks  reposing  on  a  vast  and  snowy  couch.  She 
went  in  and  inspected  them  and  took  off  her  hat. 
After  a  while,  as  the  maid  did  n't  return  and  there 
seemed  to  be  no  bell  in  the  room,  she  felt  forced  to 
go  back  downstairs. 

"Well,  I  am  glad  to  see  some  one,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes. 
7 


98  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"I  never  saw  such  a  party!  Frederick  and  the  dog 
are  asleep,  John  has  gone  out  to  walk,  Maurice  can't 
be  found,  and  Miss  Lovejoy  has  cried  herself  ill,  and 
is  n't  coming  downstairs  again  to-day.  Sit  down." 

Leslie  sat  down.  "Who  is  Miss  Lovejoy?"  she 
asked,  for  the  second  time.  "You  just  started  to 
tell  me." 

"I  don't  wonder  you  ask,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes,  open- 
ing the  lid  of  the  teapot  and  glaring  in  at  the  tea. 
"  It  just  shows  how  we  allow  ourselves  to  be  imposed 
on.  She  was  quite  alone  in  London  —  her  circle  is 
most  limited  —  and  so  we  asked  her.  You  've  no 
idea,  my  dear,  the  difficulty  of  getting  up  a  Christmas 
party  in  London.  You  see,  every  one  who  is  desirable 
naturally  has  his  own  friends  and  wants  to  be  with 
them  at  a  time  like  this.  Of  course  that  limits  any 
one  asking  a  party ;  but  she 's  a  nice  girl,  and  I  wanted 
some  one  that  I  need  n't  keep  an  eye  on  every  minute, 
so  we  asked  her,  and  she  came  down  with  us  yester- 
day, and  what  do  you  think  is  the  result?  This  very 
afternoon,  before  she  had  been  our  guest  twenty-four 
hours,  if  I  did  n't  catch  her  sitting  in  this  room  with 
John!" 

"On  his  lap !"  cried  Leslie. 

"On  his  lap!"    Mrs.  Lewes'  tone  was  one  of  un- 


LESLIE  GOES   DOWN  TO  KENELM      99 

speakable  horror.  "Mrs.  Revere,  what  a  mind  you 
must  have ! " 

"  But  —    '  Leslie  looked  bewildered. 

"  No,  not  on  his  lap.  John  is  not  that  kind  of  man. 
No,  I  should  think  not.  No,  indeed!  No,  not  by 
any  means!" 

"But  where  was  she  sitting?" 

"She  was  sitting  in  that  chair,  and  he  was  sitting 
in  this." 

"But  what  harm  was  there  in  that?" 

"No  harm.     No  harm  at  all." 

"But  you  said—  " 

Mrs.  Lewes  raised  her  hand  majestically.  "The 
harm  was  this,"  she  said  solemnly,  "the  door  was 
.hut!" 

"Oh!  "Leslie  said. 

"  I  sent  John  out  of  the  room  at  once.  I  sent  him 
out  gently,  for  I  wouldn't  have  him  suppose  that 
such  an  idea  as  that  he  might  marry  Miss  Lovejoy 
could  by  any  possibility  ever  enter  my  head.  But 
I  took  her  in  hand  then  and  I  talked  to  her.  I  soon 
had  her  weeping;  you  saw  her  when  you  came  in. 
The  very  idea!  Do  you  want  any  more  tea?" 

"No,"  said  Leslie  faintly.  "If  my  trunks  have 
come,  I  think  I'll  go  and  unpack." 


100  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"I  should  think  that  you  had  better.  I  should 
think  that  you  had  certainly  better!  We  dine  at 
half-past  seven,  prompt ! " 

As  Leslie  climbed  the  staircase  to  her  own  little 
private  refrigerator  she  felt  very  blue  indeed.  She 
wished  with  all  her  heart  that  she  had  n't  come.  Her 
trunks  were  now  in  the  room,  the  big  one  sitting 
on  the  small  one,  with  its  lock  neatly  against  the 
wall.  It  looked  as  if  Dabbs  was  still  learning. 

As  soon  as  she  saw  the  trunks  she  thought  of  her 
keys,  and  a  frightful  new  kind  of  chill  wave  swept 
over  her.  She  felt  the  grip  of  despair.  For  a  minute 
it  seemed  to  her  that  the  only  course  open  to  her 
was  to  take  her  trunks  and  flee  to  the  Man  and  the 
Hen.  It  seemed  as  if  that  would  be  simpler  than  to 
get  the  keys  from  Witney.  How  could  she  get  them ! 
Oh,  it  was  awful ! 

She  sat  down  on  a  chair  and  tried  to  think.  While 
she  was  thinking,  there  came  a  tap  at  the  open 
door.  She  looked  up;  it  was  Maurice  of  the  merry 
eyes. 

"Oh,  then  you're  not  frozen  hard?"  he  said. 
"What  is  the  matter?"  he  added  quickly,  noting  her 
distress. 

"I'm  in  dreadful  trouble,"  said  Leslie. 


LESLIE  GOES  DOWN  TO  KENELM     101 

"What  have  you  been  doing?  Talking  to  John 
Phillips  in  public?" 

Leslie  did  n't  smile,  for  his  fun  did  n't  strike  her  as 
funny.  "I  want  my  keys,"  she  said. 

"Have  you  lost  them?" 

"No,  a  man  has  them  over  at  the  Man  and  the 
Hen." 

"How  very  inconvenient  for  you.  Shall  I  run  over 
and  get  them  and  not  say  anything  about  it  to  any 
one?" 

"Oh,  if  you  would!" 

"Well,  I  will.    Right  off,  too.    What's  his  name?" 

"Ralph  Witney.    He's  English.    Is  it  far?" 

"  Five  minutes'  walk." 

He  went  off  at  once.  Leslie  put  her  travelling-rug 
about  her  and  was  patient.  He  was  only  ten  minutes 
in  all.  While  he  was  absent  she  found  a  baby  fire- 
place hidden  in  one  corner.  When  he  returned  with 
the  keys  she  thanked  him  heartily.  He  stood  still 
after  his  thanks  and  seemed  disinclined  to  go. 

"What  a  beastly  cold  room  you've  got.  I  thought 
I  had  the  coldest  room  hi  this  place,  but  this  is 
worse." 

"Yes,"  said  Leslie,  "but  you  can't  stay  in  it  even 
with  the  door  open.  I  want  to  unpack." 


102  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

" Can't  I  help?" 

She  looked  at  him.  He  had  very  merry  eyes,  and 
Witney  was  at  another  hotel,  and  Hugo  in  Paris. 
It  seemed  very  hard  to  have  to  think  of  either  of 
them  under  the  circumstances. 

"Do  let  me  help  you?"  said  the  new  man,  and  his 
voice  was  very  sweet  and  low. 

"  Oh,  dear  I "  said  Leslie.    "  Oh,  dear  me ! " 

Maurice  stayed  and  helped. 


CHAPTER  X 

LESLIE  AND   THE  MAN  AND  THE   HEN 

THE  next  morning  Leslie  woke  thinking  that  now 
she  knew  all  that  there  was  to  know  about  her 
holiday  environment.  She  was  n't  happy,  for  she 
was  cold.  She  had  been  cold  all  night,  and  it  is 
very  disagreeable  indeed  to  be  cold  all  of  a  first 
night  in  a  place  where  one  expects  to  spend  a  week. 
Without  being  in  the  least  superstitious,  it  may  be 
regarded  as  the  surest  of  all  bad  omens  to  come 
true. 

She  lay  still  for  quite  a  while  wondering  what  to 
do.  It  was  clearly  late,  for  the  light  was  very  bright, 
and  this  was  December.  While  she  was  wondering, 
with  her  eyes  widely  fixed  upon  the  ridiculous,  little, 
one-foot-by-three  of  red  rep  canopy  over  her  head, 
she  suddenly  perceived  something  that  looked  so 
like  a  bell-rope  that  she  thought  that  she  would  try 
pulling  it,  anyhow.  The  room  was  so  very  cold  that 
her  outstretched  arm  winced  perceptibly  as  she 


104  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

stretched  it  out,  but  she  rang.  There  was  a  long  wait, 
and  then  she  rang  again.  No  answer. 

She  waited  again  and  then,  hearing  a  clatter  in 
the  hall,  she  called  loudly,  but  without  effect.  Then 
she  rang  again,  and  finally  Maurice  came  to  the  out- 
side of  the  door  and  told  her  who  he  was  through  the 
crack. 

"Can  you  get  some  one  to  make  me  a  fire?"  she 
asked. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said.  "Everything  is  awfully 
behind  this  morning  because  the  dog  overslept.  But 
I  can  try.  Is  n't  it  cold?" 

"And  I  want  hot  water!    And  my  mail." 

"  You  can't  have  any  hot  water ;  it  is  n't  equal  to 
getting  up  the  stairs  hot.  And  as  for  your  mail,  you 
can't  have  that,  either.  It 's  all  carried  to  Mrs.  Lewes, 
and  it  has  to  wait  until  she  has  time  to  go  through  it 
first.  I  was  thoughtful  enough  not  to  leave  a  for- 
warding address,  however,  so  I  don't  care." 

"You  don't  really  mean  what  you  say?"  (All  this 
through  the  crack.) 

"  Oh,  but  I  do.  The  dog  was  so  cute  yesterday  he 
took  one  of  the  letters  in  his  mouth  and  put  it  in  the 
fire.  There  was  something  almost  human  in  the  way 
he  did  it." 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  HEN          105 

Leslie  didn't  laugh.  "Try  to  send  me  up  some- 
thing hot,"  she  begged. 

"Well,  I'll  try,  but  don't  hope,  for  the  spirit  of  the 
house  is  getting  into  me  and  I  may  not  remember 
your  existence  if  I  get  where  I  can  feel  a  fire.  You 
ought  to  test  the  temperature  of  my  room." 

"Thanks,"  said  Leslie.  "I  don't  want  to  test  the 
temperature  of  my  own.  Do  go  and  find  some  one 
and  get  a  fire  made  here." 

"I'll  try,"  promised  Maurice,  and  he  went  away 
whistling.  After  a  long,  long  time  a  chambermaid 
came  upstairs  and  fought  half-heartedly  with  the 
little  grate  for  a  little  while.  During  the  battle 
Kimberly  came  in  and  said  Mrs.  Lewes  would  like  to 
know  what  time  Mrs.  Revere  was  coining  down,  if 
she  was  coming  down. 

Leslie  got  up  at  that  and  dressed  and  went  down. 
She  found  Mrs.  Lewes  in  the  sitting-room  with  her 
husband  and  Miss  Lovejoy.  She  was  speaking  as 
Leslie  entered  and  went  right  on:  "Perfectly  absurd, 
as  I  have  told  you  a  hundred  times.  It  was  n't  as 
if  he  knew  her  well  or  as  if  she  were  an  old  friend ;  it 
was  just  a  bore  for  him,  and  now  he's  all  used  up  and 
he  does  n't  know  what 's  the  matter  with  him.  It 
was  very  kind  of  John  to  offer  to  take  him  to  walk 


106  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

this  morning,  and  so  far  from  being  vexed  about  it, 
Frederick,  you  should  be  grateful.  You  were  not 
here,  and  he  was  so  restless,  and  John  offered.  I  was 
going  to  send  Kimberly  out  with  him,  but  he  'd  far 
rather  go  with  a  man  than  a  woman.  So  now  don't 
say  another  word  about  it.  Good-morning,  Mrs. 
Revere;  are  you  always  as  late  as  this  getting 
down,  and  who  do  you  know  at  the  Man  and  the 
Hen?" 

Leslie  sank  abruptly  into  a  chair.  "I  don't  want 
any  breakfast,"  she  said,  quite  bewildered  by  the 
complication  so  suddenly  thrust  upon  her. 

"It's  kept  for  you,  anyway.  Common  courtesy 
demands  that,  in  any  case.  But  who  do  you  know 
that  is  stopping  at  the  Man  and  the  Hen?  You  have 
a  letter  from  there  this  morning.  Frederick,  I  wish 
you  and  Miss  Lovejoy  would  go  to  walk  or  leave 
the  room." 

Mr.  Lewes  and  Miss  Lovejoy  promptly  left  the 
room.  Mrs.  Lewes  never  had  to  speak  twice  to 
any  one. 

Leslie  took  a  seat  and  felt  as  if  she  were  in  for 
a  nervous  chill. 

"Press  the  bell,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes;  "they'll  bring 
your  breakfast  directly." 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  HEN  107 

"But  I  don't  want  breakfast,"  Leslie  protested. 
"It's  nearly  eleven  o'clock." 

"You  don't  need  to  tell  me  that,  my  dear;  I 
have  n't  sat  here  waiting  for  you  since  nine 
without  knowing  that  it 's  now  eleven.  I  don't 
know  either  what  you  expect  of  your  guests,  but 
mine  usually  come  to  breakfast  or  else  let  me 
know  the  night  before.  And  now  see  what  else 
you  Ve  done  —  made  me  have  to  send  Fred- 
erick, who  is  my  husband,  and  Miss  Lovejoy, 
who  is  my  friend,  from  the  room.  Press  the 
bell." 

"But  why  send  them  from  the  room?"  Leslie 
was  clearly  puzzled. 

"I  didn't  wish  to  humiliate  you  by  discussing 
your  private  affairs  before  others,  but  — " 

Roberts,  the  duke,  opened  the  door. 

"Roberts,  close  that  door;  I  am  occupied.  Here, 
make  up  the  fire  before  you  go." 

Roberts  made  up  the  fire  and  departed. 

"My  private  affairs!"  said  Leslie,  puzzled. 

"Yes;  I  must  know,  and  at  once,  who  you  know 
at  the  Man  and  the  Hen !" 

Leslie  looked  staggered.  She  had  not  calculated 
on  anything  like  this.  Finally  she  determined  not  to 


108  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

lose  her  temper.  She  replied,  "I  know  an  English- 
man who  is  stopping  there." 

"Why  didn't  you  ask  him  here;  we  would  have 
entertained  him.  Our  hospitality  knows  no  limits, 
and  he  could  have  slept  with  Maurice.  No,  that  is 
no  explanation  of  your  secretiveness.  What  was 
your  real  reason  for  concealing  him  at  the  Man  and 
the  Hen?" 

"I  did  n't  conceal  him." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  call  concealment,  then. 
You  have  n't  mentioned  him  to  any  of  us.  You  are 
not  telling  me  his  name,  even  now.  I  'm  afraid,  my 
dear,  your  long  residence  on  the  Continent  is  sadly 
imdermining  your  good  American  morals.  What  is 
your  object  in  having  a  man  down  here  to  whom  you 
are  unwilling  to  introduce  your  friends?  And  what- 
ever it  is,  why  withhold  the  truth  when  questioned?" 

Mrs.  Lewes'  tone  was  most  severe.  Leslie,  in  spite 
of  a  clear  conscience,  could  n't  for  the  life  of  her 
help  looking  very  unhappy.  Just  then  Frederick 
opened  the  door.  "  Cecilia  and  I  were  going  to  walk," 
he  said,  in  a  certain  plaintive  key  to  which  he  was 
much  addicted,  "and  now  I  can't  find  her  anywhere." 

"Never  mind,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes,  "you  don't  need 
to  go  to  walk.  You  can  go  with  the  dog  after  lunch. 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  HEN  109 

I  want  you  now.  Leslie  is  going  to  tell  who  she 
knows  at  the  Man  and  the  Hen,  and  I  want  a  third 
person  to  be  present." 

Mr.  Lewes  took  off  his  hat  and  coat  at  once  and 
put  on  his  glasses  with  the  hasty  importance  of  a 
doctor  called  to  the  last  gasp  of  appendicitis.  "At 
the  Man  and  the  Hen,  ah?"  he  said.  "  Yes,  well,  at 
the  Man  and  the  Hen?" 

"Go  on,  Leslie,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes. 

Leslie  was  now  dangerously  near  to  being  really 
angry.  "His  name  is  Ralph  Witney,  and  he's  down 
here  to  hunt,"  she  said. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lewes  contemplated  one  another 
solemnly  at  that,  apparently  finding  its  simplicity 
beyond  all  their  expectations.  Mrs.  Lewes  rallied 
first,  "What  do  you  say,  Frederick?"  she  said 
then. 

"A  very  strange  story!"  said  Mr.  Lewes,  with 
great  emphasis,  —  "a  very  strange  story  indeed !" 

"Exactly  what  I  was  thinking,"  said  his  wife. 

"  What  I  can't  understand  is  his  staying  at  the  Man 
and  the  Hen,"  went  on  her  husband.  "As  soon  as 
John  comes  in,  we  must  consult  him." 

"Why  not  send  Dabbs  for  him  at  once,"  suggested 
Mrs.  Lewes.  "Press  the  bell." 


110  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Leslie  began  to  think  that  she  was  indeed  Alice  in 
Wonderland.  She  got  up  and  pressed  the  bell. 

"  Perhaps  I  had  better  go  over  to  the  Man  and  the 
Hen,"  suggested  Mr.  Lewes,  then,  "  or  do  you  think  it 
would  be  wiser  to  wait  and  take  the  dog?" 

"Oh,  it  would  never  do  to  take  the  dog,"  said  Mrs. 
Lewes.  "It  might  excite  the  dog." 

"But  — "  began  Mr.  Lewes. 

"Leslie,  do  you  mind  leaving  the  room,"  said  Mrs. 
Lewes,  "I  want  to  be  alone  with  Frederick." 

Leslie  left  the  room.  She  felt  herself  to  be  hi  a 
terrible  situation.  But  it 's  always  darkest  just 
before  the  dawn,  and  in  the  hall  she  found  Maurice 
that  Distant  in  from  a  walk  and  in  the  act  of  hanging 
up  his  cap.  At  the  sight,  she  felt  as  if  she  had  known 
him  forever.  She  hurried  to  him  and  began  as  rapidly 
as  possible : 

"  You  are  just  who  I  want.  Run  —  run  as  quick 
as  you  can  to  the  Man  and  the  Hen  and  beg  —  pray 
—  implore  —  just  make  Mr.  Witney  leave  town  at 
once.  Tell  him  I  '11  do  anything  for  him  —  in  London. 
Tell  him  I'm  hi  a  dreadful  mess  on  his  account.  Tell 
him  anything !  But  get  him  to  go  —  and  please  run. " 

Maurice  seized  his  cap,  gave  her  one  look  of  deep 
sympathy  and  thorough  understanding,  and  fled. 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  HKJ,  111 

She  went  into  the  maid's  room  to  wait.  Kim- 
berly  was  there,  threading  fresh  ribbons  hi  the  dog's 
nightcap. 

"It 's  very  cold  here,"  Leslie  said,  wondering  how 
fast  Maurice  could  run. 

"I've  no  fireplace,"  said  the  maid,  narrowing  a 
general  statement  down  to  her  own  quarters.  "I 
never  see  such  a  place.  And  that  Alice  —  she  never 
brings  me  so  much  as  a  clean  towel.  And  the  dog  so 
cold  that  he  jumped  into  bed  with  me  last  night,  and 
I  had  to  get  up  and  take  his  mattress." 

"Does  he  always  wear  a  nightcap?"  Leslie  asked, 
wondering  what  she  would  do  if  Witney  should  be 
out. 

"Oh,  madame,  you  ought  to  see  his  London  night- 
caps !  A  real  lace  butterfly  set  in  each  side  for  him  to 
hear  through !  These  are  just  Cash's  Frilling  for  the 
country." 

"  I  'd  like  to  see  him  in  one,"  said  Leslie. 

Just  here  Miss  Lovejoy  looked  in  the  door.  "I  'm 
going  out  and  wait  in  the  street,"  she  said.  "You  tell 
Mr.  Lewes,  will  you?  I  've  waited  indoors  as  long  as 
I  'm  going  to  wait."  She  spoke  vexedly. 

"I  '11  tell  him  when  I  see  him,"  Leslie  promised. 

"  Do  you  know  where  he  is? " 


112  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Yes,  with  Mrs.  Lewes." 

"Well,  I  'm  gone,"  said  Miss  Lovejoy,  and  went. 

After  a  long  while  the  sitting-room  door  banged, 
and  Frederick,  his  visage  painted  the  colors  of  living 
woe,  came  hurriedly  in. 

"Dear,  dear,"  he  said,  taking  maid  and  guest  into 
the  same  grasp  of  grievous  tidings,  "  you  don't  know 
what 's  happened  now." 

"What?"   asked  Leslie. 

"Arabella  will  want  to  tefl  you  herself.  Be  very 
tender  with  her.  She  has  already  had  so  much  to  bear 
to-day." 

In  fear  and  trembling  Leslie  accompanied  her  host 
back  to  her  hostess.  They  found  Mrs.  Lewes  greatly 
agitated. 

"  You  'd  better  leave  us,  Frederick,"  she  said  to  her 
husband;  "it  will  be  easier  for  us  all  if  I  tell  her 
when  we  are  alone." 

Frederick  went  out  at  once.  Leslie  sat  almost 
trembling.  She  did  wonder  what  had  happened  now. 
If  Hugo  — !" 

"My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes,  transfixing  her  guest 
suddenly  with  her  cold,  gray,  eagle  eye,  "what  do  you 
think !  Dabbs  has  taken  John's  golf  clubs  and 
golfing!" 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  HEN  113 

"  Oh,  dear,"  said  Leslie.  In  spite  of  herself  she  felt 
relieved. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  anything  like  that?  You 
know  he  wasn't  a  regular  valet.  We  took  him  out 
of  a  cake  shop  because  he  was  so  willing.  And  now 
this  is  what  comes  of  it!" 

"What  will  you  do?"  Leslie  asked,  hardly  sure  as 
to  whether  she  were  going  to  laugh  or  shriek. 

"  I  don't  know  what  Frederick  will  do.  He  is  going 
to  try  and  calm  himself  first.  I  told  Frederick  that  if 
he  was  going  to  bring  a  valet  down  here,  it  would  be 
better  to  get  a  real  one.  Dabbs  is  n't  any  use  at  all ; 
why,  he  doesn't  even  answer  to  his  name,  because 
he  's  been  accustomed  to  being  called  Jim ;  he  's  of 
no  service  whatever!" 

Leslie  sat  quite  still,  observing  the  limits  of  her  self- 
control.  She  was  at  a  complete  loss  as  to  what  to 
say  or  what  to  do.  Life  seemed  as  detached  from  the 
ordinary  as  it  would  be  if  the  laws  of  gravitation 
should  suddenly  cease.  She  wished  that  she  were  in 
London  with  Mr.  Delauney  Dane.  He  was  so  easily 
comprehended. 

"And  this  is  the  day  before  Christmas,"  said  Mrs. 
Lewes,  after  a  slight  pause.  "I  wanted  it  to  be  such 
a  merry  day  for  every  one.  Whether  you  feel  like  it  or 


114  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

not,  you  must  get  up  to  breakfast  to-morrow.  I  've 
sent  for  the  cook  and  told  her  how  to  make  the  pud- 
ding. She  had  a  receipt,  but  I  could  n't  think  of 
letting  her  use  it.  I  never  allow  any  one  to  do  their 
way  where  I  am." 

"I  'm  sure  we  '11  have  a  lovely  time,"  said  Leslie. 

"Well,  I  hope  so,  for  this  whole  expedition  is  half 
killing  me,  and  Kimberly  gave  me  a  terrible  turn  this 
morning  by  telling  me  that  Maurice  has  been  down  to 
the  bar  twice,  —  of  course  that  means  that  he  's 
falling  in  love  with  the  barmaid." 

"Not  necessarily,"  said  Leslie. 

"My  dear,  I  know!  I  read  character  at  a  glance, 
and  Maurice  is  one  of  those  men  who  are  always  in 
love  with  some  one." 

Just  here  Maurice  entered,  smiling. 

"Have  you  been  down  at  the  bar  again?"  Mrs. 
Lewes  demanded  instantly. 

"No,  I  've  been  out  to  do  an  errand." 

"Why  did  n't  you  send  a  servant?  What  are  ser- 
vants for?" 

"I  wanted  to  go  myself." 

Leslie  was  looking  at  him  hi  an  agony  of  question. 
He  smiled  brightly  at  her.  She  felt  relieved,  rose,  and 
quitted  the  room. 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  HEN  115 

"Maurice,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes,  in  a  tone  of  sternest 
prohibition,  "you  must  be  very  careful.  That  is  a 
dangerous  woman.  She  has  an  affair  with  a  man  over 
at  the  Man  and  the  Hen,  and  except  for  my  principle 
of  always  looking  over  every  one's  letters  I  never 
should  have  even  known  of  it." 

"I  '11  be  careful,"  Maurice  promised. 

"Yes,  do,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes.  "You  didn't  see 
anything  of  the  dog  while  you  were  out,  did 
you?" 

"No." 

"  I  'm  afraid  John  is  taking  him  too  far.  They  get 
interested  in  one  another  and  don't  notice  how  far 
they  go.  I  do  wish  you  had  seen  him  when  he  came 
in  to  breakfast  this  morning,  putting  one  paw  in 
front  of  the  other.  And  he  walks  just  the  same  way 
with  his  hind  legs,  too." 

Just  here  the  dog  and  John  Phillips  burst  into  the 
room. 

"I  've  been  insulted!"  cried  John  Phillips. 

"Insulted!"  cried  Mrs.  Lewes.  "Maurice,  press 
the  bell." 

"Insulted!"   repeated  her  brother. 

Maurice  started  to  leave  the  room. 

"Don't  leave  the  room,"  his  hostess  commanded; 


116  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"sit  down.  It  will  be  better  for  some  one  else  to  be 
present." 

"It  was  the  hostler  at  the  Man  and  the  Hen," 
began  Phillips. 

"At  the  Man  and  the  Hen,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes. 
"Quite  what  I  might  have  expected  from  what  I 
have  just  been  learning  of  the  place.  Go  on,  John. 
Pay  attention,  Maurice;  this  may  be  very  im- 
portant." 

"The  dog  caught  one  of  their  ducks  in  his  mouth  — 

"Caught  one  of  the  ducks?  Not  really?  I  always 
said  he  had  hunting  blood,  and  you  never  believed 
me.  Did  he  only  catch  one?" 

"He  might  have  caught  ever  so  many  more,  for 
there  were  ever  so  many  more  in  the  yard,  but  the 
hostler  came  out  and  in  a  most  offensive  manner 
ordered  me  off  the  premises." 

"  Ordered  you  —  Mrs.  Lewes'  voice  died  away, 
strangled  in  wrath.  It  was  fully  ten  seconds 
before  she  rallied  sufficiently  to  say,  "Press  the 
bell." 

Maurice  pressed  the  bell. 

"Did  Dabbs  take  my  clubs  up  to  the  golf- 
links?  I  told  him  to  do  so,"  John  Phillips  asked 
presently. 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  HEN  117 

"Did  you  tell  him  to?  Why,  we  thought  he'd 
gone  up  there  to  play  golf." 

"To  play  golf!  How  absurd  you  are,  Arabella.  A 
valet  playing  golf." 

"  I  thought  it  odd,"  observed  Maurice. 

"I  wish  you  'd  leave  the  room,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes. 
"I  want  to  speak  to  my  brother  alone." 

The  Earl  of  Arran  was  occupying  the  fire  to  that 
extent  that  Maurice  did  n't  mind  leaving  it. 

"But  don't  go  down  in  the  bar,"  Mrs.  Lewes  called 
after  him. 

He  went  into  the  next  room,  where  he  found 
Leslie  looking  out  of  the  window. 

"Hello,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "I  mustn't  speak  to 
the  barmaid,  or  fall  in  love  with  you,  or  crowd  the 
dog  from  the  fire.  I  'm  to  have  no  Christmas  fun  at 
all." 

Leslie  didn't  smile.  "Do  you  know,  I  haven't 
been  given  my  mail  yet,"  she  said.  "I  'm  getting 
mad." 

"Oh,  don't  get  mad,"  said  Maurice;  "fall  in  love; 
it's  so  much  handier  and  easier  and  pleasanter,  and 
it  will  be  great  fun  fooling  every  one.  Let 's  have 
the  j oiliest  kind  of  an  affair.  Come  on;  I  will  if  you 
will!" 


118  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Leslie  shook  her  head,  but  there  was  a  mournful 
sort  of  wistfulness  in  her  shake  at  which  any  grown- 
up man  might  have  taken  heart. 

"I  must  tell  you  about  my  going  to  the  Man  and 
the  Hen." 

"Oh,"  Leslie  interrupted,  "did  you  see  him?" 

"Is  that  man  'him'?" 

She  turned  and  gave  him  a  look. 

"Well,  you  said  'him/  and  I  didn't  know,"  he 
murmured  apologetically. 

"Did  you  see  Mr.  Witney?" 

"  Yes,  I  did ;  and  he  said  he  could  n't  leave  to-day, 
because  he  was  hunting  to-morrow,  but  he  '11  go  in  the 
afternoon." 

"What  must  he  think!"   she  ejaculated. 

"He  didn't  tell  me.  But  he  wants  to  speak  to 
you,  and  I  'm  to  take  you  to  walk  at  five  to- 
night and  turn  you  over  to  him  just  beyond  the  city 
limits." 

"But  how  can  we  get  out?" 

"  I  '11  have  to  manage  that." 

"Can  you  manage  it?" 

"I  can  manage  anything." 

"But  you  know  I  've  been  warned  against  you." 

"And  I  've  been  warned  against  you  too." 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  HEN  119 

"But  I  'm  in  love,  so  I  can't  get  into  trouble." 
"I  make  a  specialty  of  women  in  love." 
Then  Leslie  had  to  laugh. 
"Well,"  she  said,  "you  manage  it  and  I  '11  go." 


CHAPTER  XI 

LESLIE   AND  MAURICE 

THE  day  before  Christmas  wore  onward  with  much 
discussion  and  a  tremendous  amount  of  pressing  of 
the  bell. 

"It  seems  as  if  no  one  knew  what  you  wanted 
when  you  press  a  bell  here,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes  finally, 
and  in  great  wrath  she  sent  for  the  landlady  and  said 
something  to  her  which  put  her  in  bed  for  twenty- 
four  hours.  Later  in  the  day  Kimberly  ran  on  to  Alice 
and  the  Boots  in  their  favorite  angle  in  the  upper  hall, 
and  as  a  result  Alice  and  the  Boots  were  turned  heart- 
lessly out  upon  a  cold  world. 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  house,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes,  fiercely 
waiting  for  tea.  "No  wonder  the  dog  can't  sleep 
nights !  He  knows  what 's  up." 

"He  knows  more  than  I  know,  then,"  said  Maurice. 
"I  wish  I  were  as  wise  as  he." 

"He's  very  wise,  that's  a  fact,"  said  John 
Phillips,  eyeing  the  dog  tenderly.  "You  ought 


LESLIE  AND  MAURICE  121 

to  have  seen  him  when  that  hostler  addressed  me 
that  morning.  Such  contempt!  Such  absolute 
disdain!" 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lewes  looked  first  at  Phillips  and  then 
at  the  dog,  and  continued  to  contemplate  the  latter 
in  a  sort  of  silent  ecstasy  of  tenderest  admiration 
until  tea  was  finally  brought  in. 

Miss  Lovejoy  came  in  from  somewhere  else  at  that 
and  sat  at  the  table ;  Leslie  went  to  her  seat. 

"Come  and  sit  down,  Maurice,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes; 
"you  're  keeping  the  dog  from  the  fire." 

Maurice  came  and  sat  down ;  Lewes  sat  down ;  John 
Phillips  sat  down.  Everybody  received  tea.  There 
was  a  pause. 

"Well,  Maurice,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes,  "say  something 
bright." 

"I  don't  feel  bright,"  said  Maurice. 

"I  '11  tell  you  what  we  '11  do,  if  you  like,"  said  John 
Phillips;  "you  make  a  pretense  of  springing  at  my 
throat,  and  then  we  '11  see  what  the  dog  will  do. 
We  Jve  always  wondered." 

Maurice  stirred  his  tea.  "All  right,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  Of  course  you  don't  care  what  I  do  to  the  dog  if  he 
resents  my  action  against  you." 

"What  would  you  do?"  Leslie  asked. 


122  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"  I  'd  break  both  his  fore  legs  with  one  smashing 
blow." 

"Oh,  no,  don't  do  anything  like  that,"  said  Mrs. 
Lewes.  "I  wonder  at  John's  proposing  such  a  plan. 
It  would  be  almost  sure  to  get  him  in  the  habit  of 
springing,  and  he  does  it  enough  now.  He  knocked  the 
laundress  down  last  week,  and  she  is  so  afraid  of  him 
she  won't  come  any  more." 

"Silly  fool!"   said  Lewes. 

"Shall  I  cut  the  cake?"   Leslie  asked. 

"Ask  if  any  one  wants  any  first.  There  's  no  use 
cutting  it  otherwise." 

Leslie  asked  every  one  and  no  one  wanted  any. 

"There,  now,  you  see  how  wise  I  was,"  said  Mrs. 
Lewes.  "Frederick,  what  has  Dabbs  done  this 
afternoon?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Lewes.  "  I  have  n't  seen 
anything  of  him.  Have  you,  John?" 

"No,"  said  John  Phillips,  "I  expect  he  's  gone  out 
for  a  walk.  He  's  never  been  in  the  country  before, 
and  it  interests  him." 

"I  wonder  if  he  would  n't  be  more  useful  if  you 
put  him  in  livery?"  suggested  Mrs.  Lewes.  "I  had 
an  idea  that  valets  were  always  busy." 

"Mine  always  is,"  said  Maurice. 


LESLIE  AND  MAURICE  123 

There  was  a  distinct  sensation. 

"Have  you  got  a  valet?"  asked  John  Phillips  at 
last. 

"Yes,  I  have  a  valet,"  said  Maurice. 

"Why  did  n't  you  bring  him  with  you?"  said  Mrs. 
Lewes;  "we  would  have  entertained  him  gladly, 
and  he  could  have  slept  with  Dabbs." 

"They  could  have  worked  together,"  said  Lewes; 
"he  could  have  taught  him  some  of  the  tricks  of  the 
trade  probably." 

"My  man  's  French,"  said  Maurice,  "so  I  'm  afraid 
he  would  n't  have  been  of  much  service  in  instructing 
Dabbs.  And  I  did  n't  bring  him,  because  I  let  him  go 
and  spend  Christmas  with  his  wife." 

"Ah,  married,  I  perceive,"  said  Frederick. 

"Yes,"  said  Maurice,  looking  pleasantly  at  his  host ; 
"how  quick  you  are  at  drawing  deductions." 

Miss  Lovejoy  was  gazing  at  Maurice  as  if  that 
young  gentleman  actually  wore  his  valet  twisted 
in  a  halo  around  his  head.  Miss  Lovejoy  was  very 
happy,  even  though  cold.  She  felt  herself  to  be 
somebody  with  these  tremendously  rich  Americans. 
No  one  of  her  own  nationality  knew  that  she 
existed. 

John  Phillips,  having  had  all  the  bread  and  butter 


124  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

he  wanted,  began  to  feed  the  rest  to  the  dog.  This 
troubled  Leslie,  who  hadn't  had  all  the  bread  and 
butter  that  she  wanted  by  any  means.  Maurice, 
divining  her  void,  took  four  pieces  at  once  and  gave 
her  two.  Nobody  noticed,  as  the  conversation  had 
opened  up  on  the  faux  pas  of  the  ambassador's  wife. 
Goodness  knows  what  those  abroad  would  do  if  am- 
bassadors' wives  ever  behaved  like  ordinary  mortals. 
Leslie  ate  her  two  bits  of  bread  and  butter  and  felt 
more  and  more  drawn  towards  Maurice.  She  found 
the  provision  for  her  hunger  more  welcome  than  that 
offered  to  her  intellect. 

"He  never  would  have  gotten  the  place  but  for 
her  money,"  John  Phillips  said  finally;  "everybody 
knows  that." 

"  It 's  a  dreadful  thing  for  our  representatives  to 
make  a  laughing-stock  of  themselves,"  said  Mrs. 
Lewes,  looking  severely  at  Maurice;  "real  ladies  and 
gentlemen  are  never  funny." 

"I  am,"  said  Maurice. 

Frederick  Lewes  regarded  him  earnestly.  "You 
just  think  you  are,"  he  said,  "I  used  to  be  the  same 
way  when  I  was  young." 

"Oh,  no,  Frederick,"  said  his  wife,  "you  always  had 
whiskers." 


LESLIE  AND  MAURICE  125 

At  this  Maurice  sprang  up  from  the  table.  "I  'm 
going  out  to  walk,"  he  said.  "Come  on!"  He 
spoke  directly  to  Leslie. 

Every  one  at  the  table  looked  quite  as  startled  as 
when  the  new  valet  had  been  sprung  upon  them  with- 
out warning. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  Mrs.  Lewes  asked;  she 
really  appeared  distinctly  upset. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Maurice,  "but  we  've  got  to 
hurry  or  we  '11  be  late.  Come  on." 

Leslie  rose,  and  they  had  said  au  revoir  and  were 
absolutely  gone  before  the  others  had  collected  them- 
selves. 

"Well,  I  never,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes;  then,  "What 
do  those  two  mean!" 

"I  can't  understand  it  at  all,"  said  Lewes,  looking 
very  blank  indeed.  "  She  's  older  than  he  is,  too, 
is  n't  she?" 

John  Phillips  gave  the  last  bit  of  bread  and  butter 
to  the  dog,  with  the  air  of  one  on  whose  head  the 
heavens  have  newly  fallen. 

"We  must  watch  them  closely,"  his  sister  said.  "I 
am  afraid  our  hospitable  spirits  have  taken  in  two 
very  strange  people." 

"  I  never  was  in  favor  of  this  plan  of  coming  down 


126  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

here,"  said  John  Phillips.  "  It  is  n't  doing  the  dog 
a  bit  of  real  good." 

"And  this  disagreeable  complication  with  the  man 
at  the  Man  and  the  Hen,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes,  "that 
worries  me  more  than  I  like  to  say." 

"And  with  the  ducks  at  the  Man  and  the  Hen,  too," 
interposed  John  Phillips.  "I  think  the  ducks  quite 
as  serious  as  the  man." 

"Well,  in  a  way,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes.  "But  we 
know  all  there  is  to  know  about  the  ducks  and 
we  know  almost  nothing  about  the  man;  she 
eludes  discussion  hi  a  most  trying  manner.  I  never 
would  have  thought,  from  just  meeting  that 
woman  hi  London,  that  she  would  be  one 
to  know  a  man  at  the  Man  and  the  Hen  down 
here." 

"I  always  thought  she  was  queer,"  said  John 
Phillips.  "You  remember  I  asked  her  to  the  Savoy 
to  dinner  one  Sunday  and  she  refused." 

"  You  never  really  get  to  know  people  unless  you  live 
right  under  the  same  roof  with  them,"  said  Frederick 
Lewes,  with  a  sad  intonation. 

"Don't  speak  hi  that  tone,  Frederick,"  said  his 
wife.  "You'll  depress  the  dog." 

"He's  depressed  already,"  said  John  Phillips. 


LESLIE  AND  MAURICE  127 

In  the  meantime  Leslie  and  Maurice  had  begun 
to  get  far  out  on  a  country  road. 

"Where  are  we  to  meet  Mr.  Witney?"  Leslie  said. 
"Are  you  sure  this  is  the  right  road?" 

"No,  I'm  not,"  said  Maurice.  "It's  been  com- 
ing over  me  more  and  more  for  these  last  many 
minutes  that  I  'm  almost  sure  this  is  the  wrong 
road.  In  fact,  I  'm  getting  quite  positive  about 
it." 

It  was  very  dark.  The  hedges  on  either  side  were 
dreadfully  big  and  black.  And  it  was  cold;  indeed 
it  had  been  turning  colder  rapidly  ever  since  sundown. 
In  fact,  it  had  been  continually  turning  colder  for 
two  days. 

"The  wrong  road!"  said  Leslie.  "Then  we've 
missed  him!" 

"  Well,  you  said  he  was  n't  '  him '  anyhow,"  said 
Maurice,  "so  it  does  n't  matter  much,  does  it?" 

"  Oh,  but  it  does.  He  's  English,  and  I  'm  awfully 
particular  about  English  men." 

"On  the  principle  that  even  an  English  man  may 
accidentally  turn  out  to  be  'him'  in  the  end?" 

But  she  wasn't  laughing.  "Where  are  we?"  she 
asked. 

"I've  been  wondering  about  that,  too,"  said  the 


128  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

young  man.  "  I  've  been  awfully  busy  wondering 
about  that." 

She  stopped  short.  "Why,  you  are  the  most  ex- 
asperating man  I  ever  met  in  my  life,"  she  said. 
"You  are  even  worse  than  —  "  She  stopped  herself 
just  in  time. 

"Why  did  you  stop?" 

"Because  I  didn't  want  to  go  on." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  he,  standing  before  her  in  the 
pitchy  darkness  and  speaking  with  great  distinctness, 
"you  're  just  a  bit  exasperating  yourself.  I  say, 
what  a  good  time  we  're  going  to  have  boxing  our 
way  through  Boxing  Day." 

"We  have  n't  begun  to  box  yet,"  said  Leslie,  turn- 
ing sharply  and  beginning  to  walk  back  along  the 
way  over  which  they  had  just  come;  "but  I  'm  not 
very  much  obliged  to  you  for  what  }rou  Ve  done  to- 
night. What  will  Mr.  Witney  think?" 

"It  does  n't  make  much  difference  what  he  thinks," 
said  Maurice,  "but  what  does  matter  is  what  will 
they  think  at  the  house ;  for  we  're  lost." 

"Lost?" 

"Yes,  I  don't  know  at  all  where  we  are;  we  must 
have  taken  some  wrong  turning,  and  I  don't  know 
when  we  took  it.  I  don't  know  anything." 


LESLIE  AND  MAURICE  129 

"You  mean  we  won't  be  home  in  time  to  dress  for 
dinner?" 

"  I  don't  think  we  '11  be  home  in  time  for  dinner. 
I  'm  quite  sure  about  it.  We  shan't  be  home  for 
ever  and  ever  and  ever  so  long."  His  tone  had  the 
happiest,  most  hopeful  ring. 

"Oh,  but  this  is  dreadful,"  Leslie  cried,  "especially 
with  the  kind  of  people  we  're  stopping  with.  It 
would  n't  matter  with  some  people,  because  we  'd 
just  tell  the  truth  and  they  'd  believe  it ;  but  no 
matter  how  we  lie,  Mrs.  Lewes  will  never  believe  it." 

"Yes,  I  've  been  thinking  of  that,  too,"  said  Mau- 
rice. "They  '11  wait  dinner  for  us;  I  can  just  see  the 
picture,  can't  you?" 

Leslie  began  to  laugh.  "And  yet  I'm  awfully 
vexed  at  you,"  she  said.  "Suppose  Mr.  Witney  goes 
to  the  Guardian!" 

"Yes,  I  've  thought  of  that,"  said  Maurice.  "I  Ve 
thought  of  that  in  ever  so  many  ways.  I  've  thought 
of  that  in  as  many  ways  as  there  are  chances  of  his 
meeting  different  people  or  different  combinations 
of  people  at  the  Guardian." 

"Oh,  dear!"   said  Leslie  emphatically. 

"  But  the  worst  of  it  all,  you  know,  is  n't  what 
anybody  thinks  or  what  anybody  may  or  may  not 


130  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

do ;  it 's  that  we  don't  know  where  we  are.  I  kept 
thinking  we  'd  meet  some  one.  I  gave  up  think- 
ing we  'd  meet  Witney  long  ago,  but  I  thought  we 
might  meet  some  one  else,  or  see  a  house.  But  I 
can't  see  anything;  can  you?" 

"No,"  said  Leslie,  "and  I  'm  getting  cold." 

"  I  'm  much  colder  than  you  are,"  said  Maurice. 
"  I  '11  lay  you  any  odds  that  I  'm  the  coldest,  because  I 
have,  n't  any  coat.  I  never  wear  one  in  the  country." 

"And  all  this  isn't  the  worst  of  it,"  said  Leslie 
slowly.  "The  worst  of  it  is  that  I  know  a  man  who 
will  surely  hear  of  it  somehow,  and  who  won't  like 
it  at  all."  Her  heart  swept  fiercely  off  to  Hugo  as  she 
spoke,  for  Hugo  never  got  really  mired  in  any  situa- 
tion, and  he  was  bitterly  displeased  each  time  that 
she  spattered  her  metaphorical  gaiters.  Their  parting 
seemed  less  final  than  previously  now. 

"Ah,  then  there  is  a  'him,'  and  I  have  n't  to  bother 
myself  over  falling  in  love  with  you,"  said  Maurice. 
"I  hate  falling  in  love." 

"No,"  said  Leslie,  straining  her  eyes  in  every 
direction  for  a  light.  "You  haven't  to  fall  in  love 
with  me.  You  may  do  it  in  spite  of  yourself,  but  it 
isn't  obligatory  and  it  will  be  quite  hopeless.  I 
think  that  I  love  another  man." 


LESLIE  AND  MAURICE  131 

Maurice  whistled  pleasantly.  "Oh,  well/'  he  said, 
"if  we  can't  possibly  fall  in  love,  it 's  quite  all  right 
for  me  to  ask  if  I  may  put  my  hand  in  your  muff. 
While  there  was  any  doubt  I  felt  it  might  be  an  inar- 
tistic pushing  of  the  game  along  too  fast,  but  now  I 
don't  mind  saying  my  hands  are  half  frozen.  I  shan't 
bother  you  long.  I  warm  up  quickly,  and  as  soon  as 
I  am  warm  I  rather  enjoy  cooling  again." 

"Variety  is  the  spice  of  life,"  said  Leslie  senten- 
tiously. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Maurice,  "I  don't  mind 
returning  again  and  again  to  the  same  old  muff." 

Leslie  could  n't  help  laughing.  She  thought  he  was 
great  sport.  She  was  distressed  over  Witney,  fright- 
ened over  Hugo,  uncomfortable  over  the  waiting  at 
the  Guardian,  but  still  Maurice's  hand  hi  her  muff 
became  at  once  a  very  real  and  present  comfort  in  this 
hour  of  stress.  She  didn't  know  Maurice  so  very 
well,  but  she  knew  that  she  was  going  to  know  him 
much  better. 

The  hand  in  the  muff  was  holding  her  own  "so 
nicely,  so  nicely,"  as  Huntley  remarks  in  "Lady 
Madcap." 

She  wondered.    Maurice  wondered,  too. 


CHAPTER  XII 

LESLIE   AND  HER  ENGAGEMENT 
/ 

THE  wanderers  got  back  about  half-past  eight.  They 
entered  the  dining-room  looking  as  penitent  as  was 
possible.  Of  course  neither  was  dressed  for  dinner; 
and  Mrs.  Lewes  in  a  blaze  of  expensive  copies  of 
famous  jewels,  and  Miss  Lovejoy  hi  a  fluffed  mus- 
lin, raised  curious  looks  from  between  the  severe  Black 
and  White  sketches  of  the  two  men.  The  dog,  shaking 
violently,  lay  before  the  fire. 

"We  waited  until  eight,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes.  "The 
soup  got  quite  cold,  and  look  at  the  dog." 

"I'm  so  sorry,"  said  Maurice;  "even  cold  soup 
would  seem  warm  to  us,  but  of  course  with  you  —  and 
the  dog  —  it 's  different." 

"The  dog  and  I  went  out  and  looked  for  you,"  said 
John  Phillips.  "He's  taken  a  severe  chill.  That's 
what 's  the  matter  with  him ! "  John  Phillips,  who 
rarely  allowed  himself  to  express  any  especial  emotion, 
expressed  unlimited  discontent  on  the  dog's  behalf  now. 


LESLIE  AND  HER  ENGAGEMENT      133 

"I  'm  so  sorry,"  Leslie  murmured. 

"We  got  a  still  more  severe  chill,"  said  Maurice. 
"We  got  that  awful  kind  of  clammy,  cold  chill  that 
you  get  when  you  're  lost." 

"Lost !"  said  Mrs.  Lewes  in  an  indescribable  tone. 

f '  Lost ! "  said  John  Phillips. 

"Be  careful,  Arabella,"  said  her  husband.  "You  've 
started  the  dog  to  shivering  again." 

"It  upsets  him  dreadfully  to  wait  like  that,"  said 
Mrs.  Lewes  severely.  "  He  takes  his  atmosphere  from 
us.  We  were  all  nervous,  as  was  natural." 

"And  then  he  couldn't  understand  going  out  just 
at  dinner-time,"  said  Phillips.  "Any  change  upsets 
him.  He  was  against  going.  You  ought  to  have  seen 
me  trying  to  get  him  by  the  kitchen  door." 

"He  knows  when  it 's  dinner-time  just  as  well  as 
we  do,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes ;  "at  least  he  knows  it  as  well 
as  the  most  of  us  do." 

Maurice  refused  to  bare  his  breast  to  these  arrows. 
He  continued  eating  his  soup,  and  his  calm  attitude 
impressed  Leslie  with  a  sense  of  safety  which  was 
most  agreeable  under  the  circumstances. 

"And  so  you  were  lost,"  said  Frederick  Lewes,  going 
back  on  the  conversational  track.  "Where  were  you 
lost?" 


134  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"That  is  what  made  us  so  late,"  said  Maurice ;  "we 
had  n't  the  faintest  idea  where  we  were  lost,  and  so 
we  kept  on  getting  loster  and  loster." 

"Oh,  we've  been  so  far,"  said  Leslie  wearily; 
"goodness  knows  how  far!" 

"Yes,  I  should  think  so,"  said  Miss  Lovejoy,  in  a 
pitying  tone.  "Whatever  made  you  go  so  far?" 

"We  didn't  want  to  go  so  far,"  said  Maurice; 
"  but  we  'd  gone  so  far,  and  just  a  little  bit  farther  yet 
before  we  knew  it." 

"Which  way  did  you  go?"  asked  John  Phillips. 

"We  went  down  this  street  and  over  the  bridge, 
and  then  we  went  miles  and  miles  out  of  our  way." 

"Do  you  know  that  road,  John?"  said  Mr.  Lewes. 

"Perfectly,"  said  John  Phillips.  "You  came  to  a 
white  house?" 

"Oh,  no,  we  didn't,"  said  Maurice.  "We  didn't 
go  that  road  at  all.  I  don't  know  where  we  did  go, 
but  I  know  exactly  where  we  did  n't  go." 

"We  came  to  a  house  in  the  end,"  said  Leslie. 

"Yes,  that  was  what  made  us  come  to  any  good 
end,"  said  Maurice. 

"Whose  house  was  it?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  don't  know  anything  at  all  until 
I  Ve  had  something  more  to  eat."  Maurice  was  that 


LESLIE  AND  HER  ENGAGEMENT      135 

rock  around  which  conversation  eddies  but  which  it 
can  never  completely  submerge. 

Leslie  came  to  his  rescue,  as  she  had  finished  her 
soup.  "It  was  a  house  with  a  gate,"  she  said;  "a 
five-barred  gate.  And  it  was  locked.  He  climbed  it 
and  went  inside  and  warmed." 

"Maurice!"  cried  Mrs.  Lewes.  "That  was  not 
gentlemanly." 

"I  was  so  cold,"  said  the  young  man  apologetically, 
"and  I  knew  that  she  had  a  muff.  And  they  were 
such  nice,  chatty  people ;  I  'm  to  go  out  there  and 
take  tea  to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Lewes  looked  from  her  husband  to  her  brother 
and  back  again,  her  expression  indescribable. 

"And  what  Were  you  doing  meanwhile?"  she 
asked  Leslie. 

"I  did  n't  know  what  to  do,"  said  Leslie.  "I  clung 
against  the  wall,  and  tried  to  look  like  ivy,  and  it  was 
so  hard." 

"To  look  like  ivy?"  inquired  Miss  Lovejoy. 

"No,  the  wall." 

"I  think  that  we  will  leave  you,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes, 
rising  abruptly;  "the  coffee  was  served  in  the  other 
room  some  time  ago.  Frederick,  speak  to  the  dog. 
Don't  be  brutal,  now." 


136  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Frederick  tenderly  persuaded  the  dog-  to  go  with 
them  into  the  left-hand,  private  sitting-room.  For 
the  party  had  two  private  sitting-rooms  and  one 
private  dining-room  —  not  to  speak  of  the  whole 
second  floor.  Their  entertainment  was  on  a  truly 
gorgeous  scale,  place  and  temperature  considered. 

"Now  we  can  eat  as  long  as  we  please,"  said  Mau- 
rice. "I  mean  to  eat  ever  and  ever  so  long."  He 
plunged  madly  into  all  that  was  being  served  him  at 
once. 

Leslie  also  began  to  eat  more  unrestrainedly.  "  But 
I'm  worried  over  Mr.  Witney,"  she  said.  "You 
must  go  over  to  the  Man  and  the  Hen  as  soon  as  you 
have  finished  and  explain  everything  to  him.  Why, 
he  's  down  here  partly  on  my  account." 

"  He 's  managing  to  amuse  himself  fairly  well, 
anyhow,"  said  Maurice.  "The  Man  and  the  Hen  is 
a  snug  little  box-,  and  he  's  warm  at  all  events.  I 
wouldn't  worry  over  him  if  I  were  you." 

"  I  wish  we  were  at  the  Man  and  the  Hen,  if  it 's 
snug,"  Leslie  reflected.  "  I  wish  I  could  go  over  there 
with  you  and  pay  him  a  visit  and  get  warm." 

"It  is  hard  being  cold  so  steadily,"  said  Maurice; 
"my  one  comfort  is  that  I  'm  looking  to  see  it  kill  the 
dog." 


LESLIE  AND  HER  ENGAGEMENT      137 

"I've  got  nothing  against  the  dog,"  said  Leslie, 
"only  he  stops  up  the  fire  so.  But  you  must  go  over 
and  see  Mr.  Witney,"  she  added;  "you  '11  have  to  do 
that,  you  know." 

"He  '11  be  abed  and  asleep  before  I  've  finished," 
said  Maurice.  "I  haven't  really  had  what  I  call  a 
square  meal  since  I  came  down  here.  Watch  me ! " 

After  a  while  he  did  finish,  however,  and  although 
it  was  not  entirely  too  late  to  consider  the  Man  and 
the  Hen,  they  did  n't  go  there  nor  refer  to  it  again, 
for  the  very  simple  reason  that  Leslie  forgot  the  whole 
thing,  and  Maurice  didn't  remind  her.  They  went 
into  the  right-hand,  private  sitting-room,  which  was 
reserved  for  smoking,  and  there  found  Mr.  Lewes 
smoking,  and  the  dog  looking  sombrely  into  the  fire. 

"Arabella  wants  to  speak  to  you,"  Mr.  Lewes  said 
to  Leslie  directly  she  entered;  "she  wants  to  speak 
to  you  immediately.  Maurice,  you  'd  better  stay 
here." 

Leslie  looked  frightened.  "I  '11  go  to  her  at  once," 
she  faltered. 

Accordingly  she  went  out  of  the  right-hand,  private 
sitting-room,  and  into  the  left-hand,  private  sitting- 
room,  where  she  found  Mrs.  Lewes,  Miss  Lovejoy,  and 
John  Phillips  sitting  around  the  fire. 


138  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Leslie  looked  at  the  three  and  had  as  bad  a  fit  of 
depression  as  that  from  which  the  Earl  of  Arran  had 
lately  suffered. 

"  Leave  us  alone,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes  to  her  brother, 
and  Miss  Lovejoy,  and  the  two  at  once  got  up  and 
left  the  room. 

"Sit  down,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes  to  Leslie. 

Leslie  moved  to  a  seat.  She  wished  like  anything 
that  she  were  married  to  Hugo,  or  betrothed  to 
Witney,  or  eloping  with  Maurice,  or  anything;  but 
she  wasn't,  so  she  just  sat  down. 

Mrs.  Lewes  scanned  her  in  silence,  then,  opening  her 
closed  hand,  she  held  out  a  piece  of  paper,  —  a  hastily 
scribbled  line  or  two.  "  Read  that,"  she  said. 

Leslie  took  it  and  read :  "Unable  to  understand  but 
will  leave  as  requested.  St.  Sanctus'  Club,  London." 
She  read  it  twice. 

"Unsigned,  you  perceive,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes. 

"Yes.    Whose  is  it?" 

"Yours." 

"Mine!" 

"Yes." 

"But  where  did  you  get  it?" 

"  It  was  delivered  here  about  quarter  to  eight.  We 
waited  until  eight  and  then  opened  it." 


LESLIE  AND  HER  ENGAGEMENT      139 

Leslie  clasped  her  hands  tightly.  She  felt  unable  to 
speak. 

"What  have  you  to  say?" 

"Nothing.    There  Js  nothing  to  say." 

Mrs.  Lewes  looked  at  her  in  some  surprise. 

"What  should  I  say?"  Leslie  asked. 

"It  is  from  the  man  at  the  Man  and  the  Hen,  I 
suppose?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Did  you  ask  him  to  leave?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Why  did  you  do  that?" 

Leslie  paused.  It  was  Christmas  Eve,  and  she  felt 
something  was  due  to  the  day  —  or  the  night. 

"  I  could  n't  very  well  see  what  else  to  do,"  she 
said  frankly;  "the  situation  seemed  impossible  — 

"Wait,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes,  "I  want  Frederick  to 
hear  this.  Press  the  bell." 

"But  I  don't  want  him  to  hear  it,"  said  Leslie,  un- 
clasping and  then  re-clasping  her  hands,  and  trying 
to  retain  control  of  her  judgment. 

"Press  the  bell,"  commanded  Mrs.  Lewes. 

Leslie  rose  and  pressed  the  bell. 

"And  now  I  must  tell  you  something  for  your  own 
good,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes,  "and  that  is  that  you  can't 


140  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

go  on  behaving  in  this  way  very  long  and  expect  to 
be  received  by  women  above  reproach,  like  my  hus- 
band, my  brother,  and  myself." 

Leslie  was  holding  her  hands  so  tightly  clasped  that 
all  feeling  had  gone  out  of  them.  "What  have  I 
done?"  she  asked. 

"Done!  You  have  been  here  barely  twenty-four 
hours  and  you  have  already  practically  forced  an 
inoffensive  man  to  leave  his  hotel,  and  you  have 
nearly  lost  Maurice!" 

Just  here  Maurice  himself  appeared  in  the  door. 

"  Please  leave  us  alone,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes. 

Maurice  came  in  at  once  and  sat  down.  "I 
can't,"  he  said,  "I'm  lonesome.  Every  one's  gone 
to  put  the  dog  to  bed,  and  I  was  left  by  my- 
self." 

Mrs.  Lewes  started  to  her  feet  at  that.  When  the 
dog  came  to  the  fore,  the  universe  and  all  else  which 
might  have  been,  exploded  in  thin  air  for  her.  "He 
must  wear  his  chest-protector  to-night,"  she  exclaimed, 
and  hurried  out. 

Leslie  was  looking  in  the  fire.  She  did  n't  turn  her 
face  at  all. 

"It  is  n't  Mrs.  Lewes  in  this  room  now,  it 's  me," 
said  Maurice.  "What 's  the  matter?" 


LESLIE  AND  HER  ENGAGEMENT      141 

"I  'm  losing  my  temper,"  she  said  slowly.  "I  'm 
not  sure  but  that  I  've  lost  it." 

"  Don't.  What 's  the  difference  between  a  huff  and 
a  muff?  One  you  have  alone  and  the  other  — " 

'•'Don't  be  silly.    I  'm  never  silly,  and  I  hate  it." 

"Are  you  never  silly?"  said  Maurice,  opening  his 
eyes  widely.  "  I  'm  so  sorry.  I  thought  that  you 
looked  as  if  you  could  be  silly  any  time  if  you  only 
had  a  chance.  And  now  you  say  you  can't.  Oh,  dear!" 

Leslie  stopped  short;    being  silly  had  never  been 
presented  to  her  in  just  this  light  before.    She  felt  a 
new    conception   of   the   word  —  and   the   world  - 
opening  for  her.    Perhaps  — 

Maurice  recurred  to  his  riddle.  "I  can  fix  it  up 
better  than  that,"  he  said  eagerly.  "Why  is  a  huff 
like  a  muff?  Because  I  Ve  had  a  hand  in  each  of 
yours." 

She  tried  to  laugh.  "But  really  it's  nothing  to 
laugh  over,"  she  said  a  second  later,  feeling  the  laugh 
to  be  a  failure.  "I  'm  really  angry." 

"What  about?" 

"What 's  just  been  said  to  me." 

"What  was  said  to  you?" 

"I  shan't  repeat  it." 

"What  was  it?" 


142  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"But  I  think  I  '11  go  to-morrow." 

"What  rot.    You  can't." 

"Why  not?" 

"Christmas  Day.    No  trains." 

She  pressed  her  hands  over  her  eyes.  "I  don't  see 
why  I  ever  came.  I  did  n't  know  them  so  very  well. 
And  I  thought  it  would  be  fun." 

"Well,  isn't  it  fun?  I  think  it 's  no  end  of  fun. 
I  'm  having  a  great  time." 

Leslie  looked  up  at  him  with  tears  in  her  eyes. 
"I  hate  being  a  widow!"  she  exclaimed  angrily. 

"  Don't  stay  one,  then." 

She  looked  at  him,  and  he  was  laughing.  Then  her 
own  sense  of  humor  leapt  to  her  aid.  "  Perhaps  John 
Phillips  —  ?"  she  suggested. 

"  Oh,  no  —  no  —  me ! "  said  Maurice  eagerly.  "  I 
tell  you  what  we  '11  do.  We  '11  go  right  into  the  other 
room  now,  and  directly  they  all  come  back  from 
hearing  the  dog's  prayers  we  '11  announce  our  engage- 
ment. Think  of  their  faces !" 

This  idea  was  bewildering.  The  mental  picture  pre- 
sented to  the  imagination  outstripped  all  else  in 
Leslie's  mind  for  three  seconds.  She  felt  a  veritable 
ecstasy  of  curiosity  for  a  brief  half-minute,  but  then 
reason  returned  and  she  said  tentatively:  "Only  it 


LESLIE  AND  HER  ENGAGEMENT      143 

would  n't  be  a  real  engagement,  you  know,  because  I 
don't  want  to  marry  you." 

"That 's  understood.  It  '11  be  one  of  these  wife-in- 
name-only  kind  of  engagements.  Think  of  their  faces  ! " 

The  thought  of  their  faces  was  most  alluring  to 
Leslie.  "  But  it  must  n't  get  about,"  she  said.  "  I 
only  do  it  for  a  makeshift." 

"We'll  pledge  them  to  secrecy,"  said  Maurice; 
"we  '11  tell  them  that  we  're  telling  nobody.  Think  of 
their  faces!" 

Every  time  he  said  that  she  'felt  her  scruples  going 
more  knock-kneed.  "  It  would  be  fun ! "  she  confessed. 

"Fun!"  said  Maurice.  "It  '11  be  piles  and  piles  of 
fun!  No  such  circus  ever  honored  Kenelm  before. 
Think  of  their  faces  !" 

"Shall  you  tell  them  to-night?"  Leslie  asked. 

"Of  course.  What 's  the  use  of  waiting.  Probably 
they  '11  go  to  bed  and  let  us  sit  up  a  little,  if  we  tell 
them  to-night.  And  even  if  we  are  n't  engaged  it  '11 
be  pleasant  seeing  them  all  go  to  bed." 

"Yes,  I  think  so  too,"  said  Leslie;  "but  we  must 
say  we  're  old  friends." 

"  Oh,  no.  Oh,  goodness,  no !  Then  we  '11  have  to 
match  stories  all  the  time.  Love  at  first  sight.  That 's 
the  game.  And  it  will  be  so  romantic,  too." 


144  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"But  only  twenty-four  hours,"  Leslie  protested. 

"  But  you  were  irresistible,  and  I  could  n't  think  of 
trying  to  resist.  Don't  you  see?" 

"  Yes,  but  —  but  afterwards  —  when  I  want  to 
go?" 

"  Simplest  thing  in  the  world.  We  '11  quarrel  in  here 
—  if  there  's  a  good  fire.  I  '11  go  to  play  golf  in  a 
violent  rage,  and  Mr.  Lewes  will  see  you  off." 

"Well  —  if  I  can  depend  on  you,"  said  Leslie  very 
slowly ;  "  but  don't  you  go  in  for  the  game  too  strongly, 
because  I  'm  not  in  the  mood  to  stand  much  more 
here." 

"  I  won't  be  mean.  I  !11  play  fair.  And  think  of 
their  faces!" 

Leslie  laughed  aloud.  It  all  struck  her  as  most 
awfully  amusing.  So  awfully  amusing  that  any  fur- 
ther consideration  not  only  sank  under,  but  went  com- 
pletely down  for  the  third  time. 

"And  now,"  said  Maurice,  getting  up  and  walking 
about  in  a  sort  of  active  rage  of  invention,  "which 
shall  we  do?  Go  in  there,  or  let  them  come  in  on  us 
accidentally?  That 's  the  question." 

She  looked  puzzled.    "What  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  don't  you  see?  We  might  keep  it  to  our- 
selves for  a  little  —  just  for  the  looks  of  the  thing  - 


LESLIE  AND  HER  ENGAGEMENT      145 

but  if  some  one  came  in  suddenly,  of  course — "  he 
paused. 

"Well?" 

"Why,  it  would  be  all  out." 

"Why  would  it  be  all  out?" 

"Whoever  came  in  would  see  at  a  glance — " 

"At  a  glance—  ?" 

"That  we  were  engaged." 

"I  don't  see  how.    You  look  just  as  usual." 

"Of  course  I  do,  if  I  stay  here.  But  if  we  were 
really  engaged  I  should  n't  stay  here." 

She  looked  at  him.  He  knelt  on  a  big  chair  near 
the  window,  rested  his  arms  on  the  back,  and  looked 
at  the  fire.  There  was  quite  a  pause. 

"How  very  silly  you  are !"  she  said  finally. 

"  I  thought  you  'd  say  something  like  that  if  I  — 
if  I  kept  still  long  enough." 

Her  face  flashed  hot.  "You  started  to  say  'if  you 
stayed  there  long  enough,'"  she  exclaimed.  "I  know 
you  did ;  I  see  it  in  your  eyes.  You  're  too  mean.  I 
won't  play." 

Then  he  jumped  up  very  quickly.  "Don't  be 
vexed,"  he  said  imploringly.  "I  can't  help  teasing 
you  —  you  're  so  easily  teased." 

"I  am  not  easily  teased." 


146  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Well,  what  is  it  that  you  are?" 

"I'm  vexed." 

"At  me?" 

"Yes;  you're  silly  — Oh,  don't  do  that!"  for  he 
had  thrown  himself  down  on  the  arm  of  the  great  chair 
in  which  she  was  seated. 

"I  'm  doing  no  harm." 

"My  goodness  me  —  don't ;  get  up  —  somebody  - 

"Now  listen  to  me  — " 

'*  Oh,  you  will  make  me  angry ! " 

"But,  my  dear  — " 

He  was  just  about  to  say  her  whole  name,  but  the 
hall  door  creaked,  a  gasp  sounded  at  their  backs,  and, 
turning,  they  saw  Mrs.  Lewes  standing  transfixed 
behind  them. 

Maurice  sprang  up,  beaming.  "She  has  accepted 
me!"  he  cried  happily. 

Leslie  thought  that  she  should  faint.  If  this  reached 
Hugo !  She  saw  now  clearly  that  she  loved  him. 
Her  sense  of  fun  failed  her  suddenly.  She  felt  dizzy. 

But  Mrs.  Lewes  was  much  more  dizzy  —  much 
nearer  fainting.  She  tottered  towards  a  seat,  exclaim- 
ing weakly,  "Frederick  must  hear  this.  Press  the 
bell." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MEKRY  CHRISTMAS 

THE  next  morning  a  telegram  came  for  Leslie  from 
Paris.  She  did  not  know  that  for  some  time,  however. 
Mrs.  Lewes  opened  it  to  see  if  it  needed  to  be  sent 
up  at  once,  but  as  it  only  said  "Merry  Christmas  from 
Maxim's,"  she  first  thought  of  burning  it,  but  finally 
laid  it  at  her  guest's  place.  When  Leslie  came  down 
and  saw  it  there,  she  read  it  with  a  sinking  heart. 
The  imitation  engagement  seemed  more  of  a  tragedy 
than  a  comedy,  without  Maurice's  "Think  of  their 
faces"  to  back  up  its  humor.  Disapproval  and  sus- 
picion fought  in  their  faces  now,  always  excepting  that 
of  Miss  Lovejoy.  Miss  Lovejoy  sat  with  her  mouth 
slightly  open  in  an  attitude  of  unlimited  wonder  as  to 
how  under  the  sun  Leslie  did  it. 

Maurice  was  not  present.  Christmas  or  no  Christ- 
mas, command  or  no  command,  betrothal  or  no  be- 
trothal, he  had  n't  gotten  up. 

The  breakfast  was  rather  heavy,  not  because  of  the 


148  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

amount  of  food  consumed,  but  because  Mrs.  Lewes, 
her  husband,  and  her  brother  were  all  three  too  full 
of  emotions  to  have  much  room  for  anything  else: 
They  looked  at  Leslie,  and  then  at  one  another,  and 
then  at  Leslie  again,  and  then  at  one  another  again. 
She  felt  most  uncomfortable. 

"Did  you  know  anything  whatever  of  Maurice  be- 
fore you  met  him  here?"  Mrs.  Lewes  asked  presently. 

"No,"  said  her  guest,  wishing  to  heaven  that  sho 
had  n't  come  down  to  breakfast  any  more  than  Mau- 
rice had. 

"I  wouldn't  engage  a  clerk  on  such  short  notice," 
said  Frederick  Lewes  emphatically. 

John  Phillips,  who  was  spreading  jam  on  the  dog's 
toast,  shook  his  head  as  much  as  to  say  that  he 
would  n't  either.  There  was  a  most  painful  pause 
after  this. 

"And  who  do  you  know  at  Maxim's?"  Mrs.  Lewes 

continued;  then,  "Nobody  could  be  less  desirous  of 

interfering  hi  the  affairs  of  others  than  we  are,  but 

Maxim's  is  such  a  very  strange  origin  for  a  telegram 

of  the  description  of  yours." 

Mr.  Lewes  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork  at  once  and 
assumed  an  air  of  impartial  but  keenly  observant 
inquiry. 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  149 

"I  don't  know  anybody  at  Maxim's,"  said  Leslie 
rather  miserably. 

"You  must  know  somebody  there,  since  he  (I 
trust  it  is  a  man;  no  lady  would  ever  know  a 
lady  at  Maxim's)  —  since  the  man  had  your 
address." 

"I  know  so  many  men,"  Leslie  almost  wailed. 

Again  Miss  Lovejoy's  jaw  dropped  in  a  fresh  access 
of  wonder  as  to  how  she  did  it. 

"  I  'm  not  sure  that  that  statement  is  greatly  to 
your  credit,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes.  "Indeed,  I 
fear  that  you  are  much  too  rash  in  taking  up  with 
new  situations.  I  don't  know,  I  'm  sure,  what  Mau- 
rice will  say  to  that  telegram.  He  is  a  man,  and  he 
has  been  in  Paris,  and  under  those  circumstances  he 
is  almost  sure  to  know  of  Maxim's." 

"She  might  tell  him  it  was  from  the  cannon  place," 
said  John  Phillips,  who  had  time  to  think  and  time  to 
talk,  because  he  could  eat  nothing  owing  to  the  dog's 
voracity. 

"John,"  said  his  sister,  "I  am  surprised  at  you. 
The  cannon  place !  The  cannon  place !  As  if  Maurice 
had  no  brains  at  all !  The  cannon  place !" 

John  Phillips  subsided. 

"How  long  had  you  known  your  first  husband  be- 


150  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

fore  you  became  engaged  to  him?"  Mrs.  Lewes  went 
on  presently. 

"Not  so  very  long,"  said  Leslie,  beginning  to  crave 
for  Maurice's  protection  almost  as  ardently  as  if  she 
had  had  real  right  to  it ;  "  but  the  family  had  known 
him  always." 

"It's  quite  the  reverse  in  this  case,"  said  Mrs. 
Lewes.  "We  don't  know  a  thing  about  Maurice. 
Not  a  thing!" 

"And  you  mustn't  expect  to  find  out  about  his 
finances  from  me,"  said  Frederick,  "for  I  know  nothing 
whatever  of  them ;  he  may  be  an  adventurer  for  all  I 
know.  We  entertain  freely." 

"Where  did  you  meet  him,  anyway,  Frederick?" 
said  his  wife.  "  On  a  Tottenham  motor  'bus,  was  n't 
it?" 

"No,  Arabella,"  said  her  husband;  "those  were  the 
people  we  took  to  the  Riviera  with  us  that  I  met  on 
the  'bus.  I  can't  think  where  I  did  meet  Maurice.  I 
meet  so  many  people  in  so  many  places.  It  was  since 
Thanksgiving,  anyway ;  that  I  'm  sure  of." 

Leslie  felt  a  little  appalled  in  spite  of  herself.  "I 
might  break  it  off,"  she  said,  looking  down  at  her 
plate ;  "  perhaps  I  was  a  bit  hasty." 

"That 's  easier  said  than  done  in  England,"  said 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  151 

Mr.  Lewes.  "Maurice  knows  that  you  have  money, 
because  we  've  often  mentioned  the  fact  among  our- 
selves, and  he  may  have  you  up  for  a  breach  of  prom- 
ise. It 's  a  very  common  thing  here,  and,  as  you  're 
older  than  he  is,  and  a  widow  at  that,  he  '11  likely  get 
very  heavy  damages." 

"And  he  does  look  so  innocent,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes. 
"I  never  in  my  life  have  seen  a  man  that  looks  so 
innocent  as  Maurice.  If  he  goes  into  court  looking  as 
innocent  as  he  generally  looks,  you  '11  have  no  chance 
at  all." 

"And  going  to  law  in  England  is  so  complicated, 
too,"  said  John  Phillips,  always  feeding  the  dog. 
"You  don't  deal  with  your  lawyer,  and  he  doesn't 
plead  your  case.  They  have  other  men  for  all  that." 

"And  it 's  so  far  down  in  the  city,  too,"  said  Mr. 
Lewes.  "It's  no  use  attempting  it  with  the  'bus; 
even  a  cab  takes  forever.  One  just  has  to  call  a  taxi." 

"I  hope  you  '11  never  take  a  'bus  again,"  said  his 
wife,  with  great  feeling.  "You  do  meet  the  most  cu- 
rious people  on  'buses.  There  was  that  Scotch  lady 
you  met  on  a  'bus  and  brought  home  to  lunch,  and 
she  stayed  four  months.  I  'm  almost  sure  Maurice 
is  the  man  you  met  on  the  Tottenham  'bus.  If  he 
is  n't,  he  's  the  man  you  went  up  the  sliding  stairs 


152  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

behind  at  the  Franco-British ;  I  'm  positive  that  he  is 
one  or  the  other." 

"No,  he  isn't,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Lewes,  looking 
at  her  in  a  state  of  mild  and  deprecatory  contradic- 
tion. "  You  Ve  got  them  mixed.  The  man  I  went  up 
the  sliding  stair  behind  at  the  Franco-British  was  a 
lord,  that 's  what  happened  to  that  man !  I  shall 
think  presently  where  I  met  Maurice.  I  'm  thinking 
all  the  time." 

"You  see,  we  have  such  hosts  of  friends,"  said 
Mrs.  Lewes,  pretty  much  to  every  one  at  once ;  "  we  are 
thoroughly  American  and  thoroughly  hospitable." 

"It  would  really  be  interesting  to  know  on  an 
average  how  many  Americans  we  feed  and  lend  money 
to  annually,"  said  Mr.  Lewes  meditatively. 

Just  here  the  door  opened  and  Maurice  entered. 

"Now,  no  kissing,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes  instantly.  "I 
absolutely  prohibit  it.  It  always  makes  the  dog  want 
to  begin,  and  there  's  no  knowing  what  he  may  catch. 
He  's  got  a  cold  somehow,  now." 

Maurice  went  blithely  around  the  table,  shaking 
hands,  and  saying  "Merry  Christmas"  to  every  one. 

"Your  breakfast  is  being  kept  for  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Lewes,  rather  white-Christmassy  in  manner  herself; 
"press  the  bell." 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  153 

"Thank  you  so  much."   He  pressed  the  bell.    "  Well, 

I  feel  very  happy  to-day."    He  sat  down. 

s  "  Leslie  has  just  had  a  telegram  from  Maxim's," 

said  Mr.  Lewes;    "anonymous."     He  shot  the  last 

word  out  as  if  it,  at  least,  were  from  the  cannon  place. 

"Oh,  I  know  who  it 's  from,"  Leslie  said  quickly. 

"You  know  who  it 's  from !"  Mrs.  Lewes  exclaimed 
yet  more  quickly.  "Then  you  do  know  some  one 
employed  there,  after  all !" 

"How  is  this,"  said  Maurice  most  severely.  "You 
know  some  one  at  Maxim's?  Not  Maxim's  in  Paris, 
I  trust!" 

He  pushed  back  his  chair  and  then,  seeming  to  think 
better  of  it,  drew  it  up  again,  and  went  on  eating. 

"I  told  you  how  he  would  feel,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes, 
raising  her  eyebrows  very  high  indeed  at  Leslie.  "  It 's 
a  man's  natural  view  under  the  circumstances.  Fred- 
erick would  feel  just  the  same  way  if  it  was  me. 
Wouldn't  you,  Frederick?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Lewes,  with  a  slight  start; 
"  oh,  yes  —  yes ;  yes,  surely ! " 

"There,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes,  "you  see  how  a  man 
feels  in  such  a  case.  I  dare  say  Maurice  would  like 
to  see  the  telegram.  Would  *'t  you  like  to  see  the 
telegram,  Maurice?" 


154  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Instantly,"  said  Maurice. 

Leslie  took  the  telegram  out  of  her  pocket  and 
handed  it  to  him. 

"I  think  perhaps,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes,  "that  it 
v;ould  be  as  well  if  you  and  Miss  Lovejoy  left  the  room 
while  we  discuss  this  matter." 

Leslie  sprang  from  her  seat  and  was  out  of  the  door 
before  Maurice,  who  had  crossed  his  knees  under  the 
table,  could  uncross  them  and  get  before  her  to 
open  the  door.  Miss  Lovejoy  followed. 

"Now,  Maurice,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes,  when  the  door 
was  closed  behind  them,  "tell  us  just  what  steps  you 
are  contemplating  taking." 

"And  don't  speak  rashly,"  said  Mr.  Lewes;  "don't 
let  your  temper  run  away  with  you.  Weigh  your 
words  carefully.  You  have  only  known  her  for  a  very 
few  hours,  and  you  can  see  plainly  that  the  word  is 
'  Maxim's ' !  No  doubt  about  that." 

Maurice  turned  the  telegram  over. 

"There  is  nothing  but  the  address  on  the  other  side," 
said  Mrs.  Lewes. 

"They  never  put  anything  but  the  address  on  the 
other  side,"  said  John  Phillips. 

"I  think  I  'd  better  taKe  her  for  a  long  walk,"  said 
Maurice;  "we  can  take  this  telegram  with  us." 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  155 

"No,  I  wouldn't  do  that,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes;  "I 
would  do  nothing  without  witnesses." 

"You  are  young,"  said  Frederick  Lewes;  "two 
heads  are  better  than  one.  We  are  all  your  friends, 
remember." 

"Yes,  that  was  why  I  proposed  taking  her  with 
me,"  said  Maurice. 

"Don't  keep  turning  that  paper  over  and  over," 
said  Mrs.  Lewes ;  "  you  make  me  quite  nervous." 

"Don't  you  think  perhaps  you  'd  better  give  it  all 
up?"  said  Mr.  Lewes  persuasively. 

"It  does  seem  rather  a  small  thing  to  make  such  a 
fuss  over,"  said  Maurice,  "and  yet — "  He  paused 
and  frowned. 

"I  did  n't  mean  the  telegram,"  said  Frederick.  "I 
meant  the  engagement.  She  never  could  hold  you." 

"I  shouldn't  think  of  asking  her  to  try,"  said 
Maurice. 

"No,  of  course  not,"  said  John  Phillips. 

The  duke  brought  in  Maurice's  breakfast  just  here. 

"I  should  think  that  you  would  think  of  your 
mother,"  Mr.  Lewes  suggested,  when  they  were  alone 
again. 

"He  hasn't  any  mother,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes. 
"You're  thinking  of  the  man  you  met  in  the  Tube 


156  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

with  the  patent  windmill ;  he  was  the  one  that  had 
the  mother!" 

"Oh,  my  God,  that  patent  windmill!"  said  Mr. 
Lewes.  "Do  you  remember,  John?" 

"Fifteen  thousand  pounds!"  said  John  Phillips 
feelingly. 

"  I  do  wish  you  would  n't  ever  do  any  more  business 
with  any  one  you  meet  in  the  Tube,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes. 
"You  've  lost  two  or  three  fortunes  in  the  Tube  just 
this  year." 

"But  I  have  got  a  mother,"  said  Maurice,  eating 
very  fast. 

"Yes,  I  thought  so,"  said  Mr.  Lewes.  "I  had  the 
idea  of  a  mother  distinctly  connected  with  you  in  my 
mind.  Well,  then,  if  you  Ve  got  a  mother,  why  not 
think  of  her?" 

"I  do,"  said  Maurice. 

"That 's  good,"  said  Mr.  Lewes  approvingly.  "Now, 
let  me  ask  you,  don't  you  want  us  to  look  up  Mrs. 
Revere's  record?  We  don't  know  a  thing  about  her, 
you  know,  but  there  's  always  the  Pinkertons,  eight 
dollars  a  day  and  expenses.  If  you  've  got  any  money 
at  all,  it  might  be  as  good  a  use  as  you  could  possibly 
make  of  it." 

"The  best  possible,  I  should  say,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes. 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  157 

"  There  was  that  man  at  the  Man  and  the  Hen,  you 
know,  and  then  this  telegram;  and  you  never  can 
tell  who  you  may  meet  at  our  house !  We  entertain 
every  one." 

"'With  charity  to  all,  with  malice  to  none,'"  said 
Mr.  Lewes  slowly  and  reverently.  "That  is  our 
spirit.  But  really  you  had  better  let  me  write  down 
the  Pinkerton  address  for  you.  I  always  have  it 
with  me." 

"We  never  move  without  it,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes. 
"The  dog  and  the  Pinkerton  address  we  never  leave 
behind." 

"I  should  be  very  grateful,"  said  Maurice;  "it's 
always  best  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"She  may  not  be  a  widow  at  all,  you  know,"  said 
John  Phillips;  "lots  of  widows  aren't." 

"Why,  there  was  that  widow  that  you — "  began 
Lewes. 

"There,  Frederick,  that  will  do,"  said  his  wife. 

"  Shall  I  write  the  Pinkertons  for  you?"  asked  Lewes 
kindly.  "They  know  me.  Business,  and  socially,  too, 
you  know.  I  can  write  before  lunch." 

"No,"  said  Maurice,  not  wholly  unaffected  by  this 
new  and  homelike  light  shed  on  the  famous  Secret 
Service,  but  nobly  resisting  the  temptation  to  enlarge 


158  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

his  own  circle;  "no,  I  '11  write  myself.  I  want  the 
engagement  kept  a  secret,  so  I  'd  rather  write  myself, 
thank  you." 

"Oh,  they  won't  tell  any  one,"  said  Mr.  Lewes; 
"they  're  used  to  all  that  kind  of  thing." 

"They  do  everything  quietly,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes. 
"Quietly,  you  know." 

"Awfully  close-mouthed  lot,  the  Pinkertons,"  said 
John  Phillips. 

"And  now,"  said  Maurice,  rising  abruptly,  "I 
think  I  '11  get  her  and  we  '11  go  to  walk." 

They  all  knew  that  when  he  spoke  hi  that  tone  he 
would  go  ahead  and  do  it  anyway,  so  no  one  tried  to 
dissuade  him  from  embarking  on  so  rash  a  proposition. 

"Only  don't  you  get  lost  again,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes. 
"There  must  be  no  more  coming  late  to  meals." 

"Oh,  we  '11  keep  in  sight  of  the  town,"  said  Maurice. 

"Dabbs  and  I  are  going  up  to  play  golf,"  said  John 
Phillips. 

"Any  handicap?"  said  Maurice,  with  friendly 
interest. 

"Oh,  he  just  caddies,"  explained  Phillips  seriously. 
Thereupon  those  two  men  left  the  room. 

Leslie,  sitting  upstairs  by  the  saddest  fire  that  ever 
eyes  shone  upon,  heard  a  tap  and  then  a  voice  at 


MERRY  CHRISTMAS  159 

crack.  "Come  on,  my  dearest  dear;  we  're  going  to 
walk." 

She  hurried  on  her  things  and  joined  him  in  the  hall 
in  two  minutes.  "  If  this  goes  on  much  longer  I  can't 
stand  it,"  she  said;  "did  you  ever  hear  anything  like 
it  in  all  your  life?" 

"But  what  will  you  do?  You  would  n't  bolt  with 
me,  I  suppose?" 

"Oh,  no;  I  don't  think  so  now,  at  any  rate.  But 
heaven  knows  what  I  '11  do  hi  a  little  while.  I  'm  so 
cold,  and  I  'm  so  mad,  and  then,  I  'm  so  afraid  — " 
she  hesitated. 

"What  are  you  afraid  of?" 

She  looked  up  into  his  face.  "  I  'm  horribly  afraid 
that  I  shall  burst  out  laughing  in  spite  of  myself." 

He  could  not  smother  his  glee  at  that  thought. 

"And  besides  I  'm  scared." 

"What  are  you  scared  of?" 

"I  'm  wretchedly  afraid  somebody  '11  hear  of  it." 

"You  can  fix  it  all  up." 

"Not  if  their  side  gets  to  —  to  — " 

"  But  it  never  will." 

"  I  'm  not  so  sure  of  that.  They  have  such  a  wide 
and  varied  connection." 

"Yes,  but  if  he  —  he  —  if  he  loves  you?" 


160  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Yes,  but  if  he  loves  me  —  and  I  'm  not  sure  that 
he  does  —  he  won't  stand  any  nonsense.  He  's  that 
kind  of  man." 

''Perhaps  he  doesn't  love  you?"  said  Maurice 
cruelly.  "That  was  n't  a  very  tender  telegram." 

Leslie  merely  smiled.  "But  it  was  a  telegram," 
she  said:  "and  it  means  more  for  him  to  send  one 
telegram  like  that  than  it  does  for  the  usual  man  to 
write  a  long  daily  letter." 

"Dear  me!"  cried  Maurice,  "is  he  that  kind  of  a 
man?" 

"Yes,  he  's  that  kind  of  a  man." 

Maurice  whistled.  But  he  was  not  depressed;  not 
Maurice. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   DAY  AFTER 

CHRISTMAS  DAY  passed  away,  and  ended  pleasantly 
with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lewes  and  the  dog  retiring  early, 
leaving  Leslie  and  Maurice  in  the  left-hand,  private 
sitting-room,  and  Miss  Lovejoy  and  John  Phillips  in 
the  right-hand,  private  sitting-room.  To  the  casual 
observer  it  would  seem  that  Miss  Lovejoy  was  learning 
how  it  was  done. 

The  weather  was  turning  colder  and  colder,  faster 
and  faster,  every  hour.  The  Guardian  was  beginning 
to  feel  as  if  it  had  been  built  seven  hundred  years  ago 
at  the  very  least,  and  around  the  window  and  door 
jambs  there  were  chill  little  breaths  quite  pre-Roman 
in  their  sharp  suggestiveness. 

Leslie  looked  at  Maurice  standing  before  the  fire 
until  she  felt  as  if  she  really  must  make  a  reality  out 
of  the  engagement  and  go  and  lay  her  head  against 
his  cheerfully  warm-looking  bosom. 

Maurice  seemed  to  divine  her  thought.     "I  don't 


162  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

think  much  of  this  kind  of  an  engagement  that  we  Ve 
got,"  he  said;  "it  '&  lacking  just  where  it  ought  to 
come  out  strongest." 

"Y  —  yes,"  said  Leslie  doubtfully,  "we  just  did  it 
to  see  their  faces,  and  when  their  faces  are  not  here  to 
see,  it  does  seem  —  it  does  seem  —  "  she  stopped. 

"Exactly  my  view  of  the  case,"  said  Maurice;  "and 
now  that  they  Ve  all  accepted  it,  and  the  room  keeps 
getting  colder,  and  you  blush  purple  instead  of  pink 
—  why,  I  find  the  situation  lacking  in  humor." 

" I  know  I 'm  purple,"  said  Leslie.  "Mrs.  Lewes  tells 
me  so  every  five  minutes.  But  I  'm  so  cold ! "  The 
last  words  burst  from  her  in  a  veritable  wail. 

"I  declare,  it's  a  shame,"  said  Maurice  fiercely. 
"Come  here."  He  spoke  with  such  terrible  masculine 
energy  that  Leslie,  who  had  a  strong  imagination,  saw 
herself  getting  really-truly  engaged  to  the  wrong  man 
just  through  sheer  force  of  circumstances. 

"  Oh — oh,  no !  "  she  cried  piteously.  "  Please !  I  'm 
so  cold  I  don't  know  what  I  ;m  doing ! "  In  an  agony 
of  fidelity  to  Hugo  [who  had  never  asked  her]  she 
sprang  up  and  fled  from  the  room. 

Maurice,  who  had  never  asked  anybody,  laughed  a 
little  to  himself,  and  then  went  down  to  the  bar. 

The  next  morning  Kenelm  was  all  but  frozen  over. 


THE  DAY  AFTER  163 

"Oh,  my  goodness  me,  why  did  I  ever  come  here!" 
Leslie  thought  for  the  hundredth  time  since  her  ar- 
rival; and  then  she  turned  over  in  bed  and  decided 
not  to  get  up  till  noon.  Nobody  came  to  build  the 
fire,  the  room  was  frightfully  cold,  she  could  n't  sleep, 
and  so  at  last  she  decided  that  somebody  must  come, 
and,  taking  the  bell-rope  in  both  hands,  she  gave  it 
such  a  jerk  that  it  brought  the  whole  thing  down  upon 
her  head.  The  result  of  that  was  that  she  had  to  get 
up  and  fasten  it  deftly  back  so  that  it  would  appear 
as  usual.  As  she  did  so  she  wondered  if  perhaps 
others  had  not  done  the  same  before.  She  wondered 
further  if  possibly  the  clue  to  its  never  being  answered 
did  not  lie  there.  She  wondered  still  further,  then,  if 
maybe  that  had  not  been  the  solution  of  all  the  un- 
satisfactory bell  systems  in  old-fashioned  hotels.  She 
smiled  a  bit  at  the  idea,  and  crept  quickly  down  in 
among  the  bedclothes  again.  It  was  warm  there,  at 
all  events. 

An  hour  later  a  new  chambermaid,  procured  Heaven 
knows  where,  came  and  built  a  fire.  So  that  Leslie 
did  finally  arise  and  dress  herself  and  go  down.  The 
right-hand  sitting-room  presented  a  cheery  aspect  as 
she  opened  its  door.  The  shades  were  drawn  and  the 
curtains  pinned  together  from  top  to  bottom.  There 


HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

was  a  roaring  fire,  and  the  fearl  of  Arran  was  roasting 
before  it.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lewes,  each  with  a  shawl  and 
a  fur-lined  motor-nig,  sat  near  with  morning  papers. 

"We  never  shall  try  this  again,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes, 
raising  her  eyes  at  Leslie's  entrance.  "This  is  awful ! " 

"  Have  you  seen  the  barometer?  "  said  Lewes.  "  Un- 
believable, absolutely  unbelievable !  A  new  departure 
in  the  history  of  England." 

Leslie  sat  down  as  near  the  fire  as  she  could  get. 

"We  go  up  to  town  this  afternoon,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes, 
speaking  in  a  tone  of  decisive  finality.  "I  have  sent 
Maurice  to  take  all  the  first-class  compartments  hi  the 
first  train  leaving  after  lunch.  He  is  to  reserve  all  the 
hot-water  cans  between  here  and  London.  We  have 
our  own  rugs." 

"And  in  this  temperature  John  has  gone  to  play 
golf ! "  said  Mr.  Lewes,  taking  a  fresh  wrap  around  his 
knees.  "My  dear,"  he  said,  turning  to  his  wife,  "did 
you  notice  here  that  the  Duke  of  Connaught  dines  at 
Sandringham  to-night?  You  remember  we  met  him 
once  —  passed  within  ten  feet  of  him  on  the  pier  at 
Brighton." 

Mrs.  Lewes  paid  no  attention  whatever  to  this  bit 
of  news  regarding  her  royal  friend. 

"Where  is  Miss  Lovejoy?"  Leslie  asked  presently. 


THE  DAY  AFTER  165 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Lewes.  "Where  is 
Cecilia,  Arabella;  do  you  know?" 

"She  walked  to  the  station  with  Maurice,"  said 
Mrs.  Lewes.  "You  must  n't  mind  that,  my  dear,"  she 
remarked  impressively  to  Leslie.  "That 's  the  kind 
of  thing  that  any  woman  that  marries  a  man  younger 
than  herself  has  got  to  expect  right  straight  along. 
You  must  make  up  your  mind  to  it  at  once." 

"Not-  ''  said  Mr.  Lewes,  looking  judicially  over 
his  paper  at  Leslie,  "not  but  what  Miss  Lovejoy  must 
be  older  than  you,  you  know." 

"That  isn't  the  point,  Frederick,"  said  his  wife. 
"Miss  Lovejoy  might  be  old  enough  to  be  Maurice's 
grandmother  and  still  the  principle  would  remain  the 
same." 

"Look  at  the  Baroness  Burdett-Coutts,"  said  Fred- 
erick, "forty  years  older  than  her  husband!  There 
was  principle  for  you." 

"Frederick,"  said  his  wife,  "pray  press  the  bell." 

Frederick  pressed  the  bell,  but  before  any  one 
could  have  possibly  gotten  round  to  answering  it,  the 
door  opened  suddenly,  and  the  landlady  flew  in. 

"Oh,  my  dears,"  she  cried,  "what  do  you  think! 
Oh,  what  news !  You  '11  never  believe  me !  And  yet 
it's  true!" 


166  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Mr.  Lewes  turned  pale,  stooped  forward,  and  grasped 
the  dog  firmly  by  the  collar. 

"Speak!"  he  said  hoarsely. 

"  They  've  run  off  together  —  those  two.  Taken  the 
train  for  London !" 

There  were  at  least  three  speechless  seconds. 

"Frederick,"  said  his  wife  then,  leveling  her  eyes 
on  him  with  the  utmost  severity,  and  speaking  in  a 
low,  suppressed  guttural,  "what  have  I  said  all  along ! 
I  told  you  the  first  time  I  laid  eyes  on  Maurice  that 
he  had  the  face  of  a  reformed  cut-throat.  I  read 
character  at  a  glance,  and  I  knew.  Do  you  remem- 
ber where  you  met  him  now  ?  " 

Mr.  Lewes  adjusted  his  shawl  and  rug  with  the  air 
of  a  man  taking  what  precautions  he  can  against  the 
breaking  storm.  "You  're  well  out  of  this,"  he  said 
feelingly,  aside  to  Leslie. 

"But  only  fancy  their  going  off  like  that !"  said  the 
landlady,  who  was  lively  and  chatty  and  adored  her 
American  visitors  because  they  believed  in  reciproc- 
ity; "I  never  would  have  thought  it  —  would  you?" 

"How  about  her  luggage?"  asked  Mrs.  Lewes  sud- 
denly and  anxiously ;  "  you  had  better  hold  it  for  her 
bill.  We  cannot  possibly  consider  her  in  the  light  of 
a  guest  after  this,  you  know." 


THE  DAY  AFTER  167 

"Hold  his,  too,"  interposed  Mr.  Lewes  hastily; 
"he  's  no  guest  either,  now." 

The  landlady  did  not  look  at  all  distressed  over  her 
bills.  "But  which  will  you  have  for  luncheon,"  she 
asked,  "mutton  or  veal  cutlets?" 

"  I  don't  care  which,  but  whatever  we  have  we  '11 
have  it  here,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes;  "send  me  my  maid 
at  once." 

The  landlady  went  away  at  this  gentle  hint,  but 
Kimberly,  according  to  custom,  did  n't  appear. 

"Now  you  see,  my  dear,  what  comes  of  this  kind 
of  uidiscriminate  acquaintances,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes 
most  bitterly,  as  soon  as  they  were  alone;  "think  how 
many  experiences  exactly  like  this  we  Ve  been 
through.  You  never  will  learn  anything.  I  was 
against  asking  Maurice  from  the  first.  Why,  we 
don't  even  know  his  last  name,  and  after  twenty-four 
hours'  continuous  application  you  can't  recall  where 
you  met  him.  It 's  worse  than  that  Thames  party 
last  summer  where  you  would  invite  the  man  who  was 
the  President's  cousin  and  he  went  off  with  the  whole 
house-boat  while  we  were  on  shore  making  tea. 
Think  of  all  the  letters  you  have  written  the  President 
about  it,  and  he  does  n't  pay  the  slightest  attention. 
For  my  part,  I  don't  believe  that  he  was  the  Presi- 


168  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

dent's  cousin  at  all.  I  never  did.  Stop  throttling  the 
dog  like  that  —  he  hasn't  done  anything.  I  do 
wonder  where  Maurice  is  expecting  to  get  married 
to-day!" 

The  door  opened  just  here  and  Maurice  looked  in 
smiling. 

"Oh,  my  gracious  goodness !"  screamed  Mrs.  Lewes. 
"Oh  — oh!" 

Leslie  started  to  her  feet  and  Frederick  came  all 
untucked. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Maurice.  "It  can't  be  that 
you  've  heard  the  news,  because  I  'm  the  only  one 
who  knows,  and  I  've  just  come  to  tell  you." 

"To  tell  us  what?" 

"Of  the  elopement." 

"The  elopement!  But  we  thought  it  was  you!" 

"Me!"  Maurice  looked  charmingly,  pleasantly,  in- 
nocently puzzled.  "Why,  how  could  it  be  me?  I  'm 
engaged." 

"There,  Frederick,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes,  in  a  tone 
sepulchral  and  hopeless,  "I  told  you  how  it  would  be. 
It 's  that  Dabbs.  That 's  what  comes  of  getting  a  valet 
who  isn't  a  real  one.  This  affair  will  be  in  every  paper 
in  England  to-morrow,  and  when  they  come  to  us  to 
know  all  about  Miss  Lovejoy,  what  are  we  to  say!" 


THE  DAY  AFTER  169 

"By  the  way,  Maurice,"  said  Mr.  Lewes  in  kindly 
aside,  "while  I  think  of  it,  what  is  your  last  name? 
You  may  have  mail,  you  know,  and  then  anyway, 
among  intimate  friends,  I  think  it 's  always  pleasant 
to  know  the  last  name." 

"My  last  name  's  Benedict,"  said  Maurice. 

"  Indeed !  Benedict !  I  '11  just  make  a  note  of  that. 
And  now,  my  dear,"  turning  to  his  wife,  "I  would  n't 
take  this  too  seriously  to  heart.  Dabbs  was  of  no 
service  whatever,  as  you  so  frequently  and  justly  re- 
marked ;  and  we  both  know  what  a  drain  as  to  money 
and  little  articles  of  wearing  apparel  Miss  Love  joy  has 
been  on  you.  Let  bygones  be  bygones.  The  dog 
never  liked  her." 

"Yes,"  said  Maurice;  "that  would  be  all  right  if 
she  had  gone  off  with  Dabbs.  But  she  has  n't.  She  's 
gone  off  with  Phillips." 

At  this  Mrs.  Lewes  went  over  backward,  shawl, 
rug,  chair,  and  all. 


CHAPTER  XV 

LESLIE  AND  THE   LAST  OF  KENELM 

LESLIE  and  Maurice  retired  to  the  other  sitting-room 
during  the  reconstruction  of  their  hostess. 

"Oh,  dear,"  Leslie  said  faintly;  "oh,  dear!" 

"Exactly  so,"  said  Maurice.  "I  couldn't  possibly 
put  it  more  neatly.  'You  dear'  would  sound  too 
pointed." 

"Did  you  ever  suspect  such  a  thing?" 

"No;  I  thought  Phillips  might  run  away  with 
the  dog,  but  Miss  Lovejoy  never  once  entered  my 
head." 

Leslie  sat  down  before  the  fire,  rested  her  elbows 
on  her  knees  and  her  chin  on  her  hands. 

There  was  a  pause,  and  during  the  pause  the  door 
opened  a  bit  and  a  mysterious  hand  agitated  a  tele- 
gram in  their  sight. 

Maurice  went  and  took  it,  and  the  hand  at  once 
shut  the  door  and  left  them  again  alone. 

The  telegram  was  for  Leslie. 


LESLIE  AND  THE  LAST  OF  KENELM    171 

"I  declare,  his  attentions  are  getting  really  press- 
ing," said  the  young  man  as  he  delivered  it  over. 

Leslie  tore  it  open  quickly. 

"'Why  are  the  Pinkertons  looking  you  up?'"  she 
read  aloud,  in  a  frightened  tone.  "Oh,  my  goodness 
me,  what  does  this  mean?" 

Maurice  took  the  telegram  and  read  it  too. 

"How  does  he  know  they  're  looking  you  up?"  he 
asked  in  amazement. 

"He  knows  everything,"  wailed  Leslie.  "He  finds 
out  everything.  Don't  ask  me  how  he  does  it.  I 
only  know  he  does  do  it.  We  'd  have  been  married 
long  ago  but  for  that." 

She  was  too  unfeignedly  upset  for  Maurice  to  give 
vent  to  even  a  smothered  smile.  Instead,  he  managed 
to  look  at  her  in  real  sympathy,  and  he  was  still  so 
looking  at  her  when  Kimberly  coughed  and  then 
tapped. 

"Come  in,"  cried  the  man. 

"If  you  please,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lewes  would  like  to 
speak  to  Mrs.  Revere  alone,"  said  the  maid  at  the 
door  crack. 

Leslie  choked  down  her  agitation  and  left  for  the 
right-hand  sitting-room  at  once. 

It  was  hard  to  believe  that  it  was  the  same  couple 


172  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

who  had  sat  there  so  peacefully  one  short  half-hour 
ago.  Mrs.  Lewes  was  now  white  and  Mr.  Lewes  was 
now  red,  and  both  were  most  fearfully  upset  as  to 
rugs  and  tempers. 

"Did  you  guess  anything  of  this  beforehand?" 
Mrs.  Lewes  burst  forth,  the  instant  she  laid  eyes  on 
Leslie;  "did  you  suspect  anything?  Be  careful  what 
you  say.  Tell  the  whole  story.  Listen,  Frederick, 
she  is  going  to  tell  the  whole  story.  Go  on,  my  dear, 
only  be  careful.  Be  extremely  careful." 

"But  I  don't  know  a  thing,"  said  Leslie.  "I  never 
suspected  such  a  thing." 

"You  hear,  Frederick,"  said  his  wife;  "she  sus- 
pected nothing.  And  yet  you  say  I  ought  to  have 
looked  after  John  more  closely.  What  could  I  do 
beyond  having 7  im  always  keep  the  dog  with  him?  A 
woman  of  my  position  cannot  be  running  after  a  man 
of  John's  position  all  the  time.  And  he  knows  all 
about  her,  —  at  least  he  knows  as  much  as  we  know 
about  her ;  he  knows  that  we  know  nothing  about  her." 

"Which  is  something,"  said  Mr.  Lewes,  carefully 
adjusting  his  shawl  afresh.  "Why,  she  has  on  some 
of  your  stockings  at  this  instant,  Arabella." 

"More  than  that,  Frederick,  —  considerably  more 
than  that.  I  may  say  that  all  that  is  next  to  her  — 


LESLIE  AND  THE  LAST  OF  KENELM    17S 

but  never  mind.  Well,  my  dear,  so  you  suspected 
nothing.  You  see,  Frederick,  it  is  as  I  told  you.  She 
suspected  nothing.  She  has  an  unsuspecting  nature, 
the  same  as  we  have.  It 's  the  American  pure-heart- 
edness.  It 's  what  leads  to  all  the  swindlers  in  the 
world  being  American.  We  're  so  pure-hearted." 

"But  do  you  really  think  that  there  is  anything  to 
feel  so  very  bad  about?  "  said  Leslie;  "she  was  your 
friend—" 

"Friend!"  interrupted  Mrs.  Lewes  with  hasty 
scorn, —  "friend!  If  you  entertained  as  freely  as  we 
do,  you  would  know  what  it  means  to  have  your 
brother  run  off  with  a  mere  friend.  Where  did  we 
pick  Cecilia  up,  anyway,  Frederick?" 

"She  came  with  a  lotion,  didn't  she,  Arabella," 
asked  the  husband,  "and  her  sweet  disposition  won 
us  completely.  We  hold  ourselves  above  class  dis- 
tinctions; we  know  no — " 

"But  we  shall  from  now  on,"  interposed  his  wife. 
"I  '11  never  risk  anything  like  this  again." 

"We  try  to  live  upright  lives  and  give  every — " 
began  Mr.  Lewes. 

"And  then  they  elope  with  my  brother,"  said  his 
wife,  "  as  if  this  weather  was  n't  enough  misery." 

"Now,  you  see,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Lewes,  turning 


174  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

to  Leslie,  "why  we  so  strongly  urged  your  setting  the 
Pinkertons  to  look  up  Maurice  — 

He  was  interrupted  by  Leslie's  start  and  a  scream 
of  "  Frederick ! "  from  his  wife. 

"The  Pinkertons — "  he  said,  in  great  confusion, 
"why  —  ee,  yes,  the  Pinkertons,  you  know,  my 
dear,  — " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Leslie,  not  seeing,  on  the  spur 
of  the  minute,  whether  to  laugh  or  cry,  "  but  it 's  me 
they  're  looking  up,  not  Maurice." 

"My  goodness  me,"  said  Lewes,  so  astonished  that 
it  was  pitiable;  "why,  how  did  you  ever  come  to  find 
that  out?" 

"You  are  so  hasty,  Frederick,"  said  his  wife,  in  a 
sort  of  passion  of  protest  over  his  general  stupidity; 
"she  has  n't  found  it  out.  It 's  you  that  are  telling 
her.  She  does  n't  know  a  thing  about  it.  To  go  back 
to  John  and  Miss  Lovejoy  — ' 

"But  why  did  you  set  the  Pinkertons  to  look  me 
up?"  Leslie  asked;  "why  didn't  you  just  ask  me 
whatever  you  wanted  to  know." 

"Frederick,"  said  his  wife,  rising,  "I  feel  alarmingly 
faint.  Help  me  to  my  room." 

In  an  instant  they  were  both  gone,  leaving  the  floor 
strewn  with  the  waves  of  their  rugs.  Leslie  did  not 


LESLIE  AND  THE  LAST  OF  KENELM    175 

press  the  bell  for  some  one  to  fold  them;  she  piled 
the  fireplace  with  fuel  and  then  set  about  folding  them 
herself. 

Maurice  came  in  almost  at  once. 

"  It  was  they  who  set  the  Pinkerton  Agency  on  m  j 
trail,"  Leslie  said  briefly;  "when  shall  we  ever  get  to 
the  bottom  of  all  this!  I  only  know  one  thing  — 
when  they  go  you  must  go  too ! " 

"Well,  but  aren't  you  going  too?" 

"No,  I  'm  coming  alone  later." 

"Why  not  with  us?" 

She  looked  down.  "Because  I  don't  want  to,"  she 
said,  then  she  raised  her  eyes  and  laughed.  "I  want 
to  break  the  engagement  now." 

Maurice  laughed  too.  "Oh,  I  understand.  But 
I  '11  see  you  in  town?" 

"Often,  I  hope,"  she  answered  briefly,  "and  you 
may  meet  the  next  tram." 

At  that  he  took  her  hand  and  kissed  it. 

They  two  lunched  alone;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lewes  had 
theirs  served  to  them  privately  —  with  the  dog. 
Directly  after  luncheon  preparations  for  the  departure 
were  in  order.  It  was  more  than  a  little  imposing,  with 
Frederick  and  the  dog  in  the  first  brougham,  Mrs. 
Lewes  and  Maurice  in  the  second,  Kimberly  and 


176  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Dabbs  in  a  third  (that  needed  varnishing  badly),  and 
the  luggage  on  an  omnibus  behind.  Leslie  waved  to 
them  from  the  window. 

"Most  curious  her  remaining  behind,"  said  Mrs. 
Lewes  to  Maurice.  "  I  cannot  see  how  you  permitted 
it,  considering  your  feeling  for  her." 

"Oh,  we  've  given  all  that  over,"  said  Maurice.  "I 
like  her,  but  she  doesn't  understand  me.  Besides, 
she  's  so  hopelessly  uninteresting,  just  between  our- 
selves." 

"Oh,  I  know  it,"  said  Mrs.  Lewes  quickly;  "we  've 
felt  the  same  way.  And  so  you  Ve  given  it  over? 
Well,  I  'm  glad." 

"  Yes,  so  am  I ! "  said  Maurice  blithely. 

"And  just  see  how  she  acted!"  Mrs.  Lewes  said; 
"only  three  days  hi  all,  and  there  was  you,  and  then 
Maxim's,  and  then  that  man  at  the  Man  and  the  Hen. 
And,  do  you  know,  I  'm  almost  sure  that  she  was  at 
the  bottom  of  John's  trouble,  because  if  John  had 
had  anything  else  in  the  world  to  amuse  him  he  never 
would  have  run  away  with  Cecilia  Lovejoy.  No  man 
would." 

"  I  would  n't,  even  then,"  said  Maurice. 

Mrs.  Lewes  patted  his  hand.  "No,  my  dear  boy,  I 
know  it.  I  know  it  only  too  well.  What  a  comfort 


LESLIE  AND  THE  LAST  OF  KENELM    177 

you  have  been  to  us !  Words  fail  me.  And  the  dog 
is  so  fond  of  you." 

Leslie,  left  alone,  spent  a  quiet  afternoon  packing 
and  went  up  on  the  four-thirty.  It  was  frightfully 
cold,  and  she  nearly  died.  Arriving  in  London,  it 
was  nice  to  see  Maurice  on  the  platform  awaiting  her. 

"Oh,  how  sweet  of  you !"  she  cried. 

"It  was  lonesome,"  said  the  young  man  briefly. 
"Heavens,  what  a  trip  we  had!  Little  currents  of 
cold  air  scampering  all  over.  'Aha,  here  's  another 
ankle  to  nip!"; 

Leslie  laughed.  She  was  most  awfully  glad  to  see 
him. 

"  Let 's  call  it  on  again !"  he  whispered,  in  the  cab, 
later. 

"Oh,  no!"  she  said  with  resolution. 

"No?"  he  asked  inquiringly. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

LESLIE   GOES  FORTUNE-HUNTING 

THERE  is  a  great  difference  between  London  and 
Kenelm  at  all  times,  but  at  the  time  of  which  I  write 
their  special  difference  consisted  in  the  fact  that  it  was 
possible  to  keep  warm  in  London.  Some  idea  of  the 
joy  with  which  the  Christmas  guest  got  home  may  be 
derived  from  that  consideration. 

Leslie,  delivered  at  her  own  door  by  Maurice,  asked 
him  to  dinner,  adding  tactfully,  "  But  I  'm  sure  you 
don't  want  to  come. " 

"  I  'm  sure  that  I  shan't  come,"  he  replied,  "  but 
may  I  come  to-morrow?" 

She  thought  that  he  might,  and  so  they  parted 
without  setting  any  hour  of  rendezvous.  Maurice 
went  home  to  Park  Lane  (the  Bachelor's  Extension 
half),  and  his  whilom  fiance'e  went  straight  upstairs 
and  to  bed,  with  two  hot-water  bags,  a  roaring  fire, 
and  a  pot  of  hot  chocolate,  each  disposed  where  it 
would  do  the  greatest  possible  good.  There  were  a 
lot  of  letters,  but  none  from  Hugo,  and  when  she  was 


LESLIE  GOES  FORTUNE-HUNTING    179 

well  toasted  and  getting  sleepy  she  revenged  herself 
by  thinking  of  Maurice  until  dreams  claimed  her. 
Thinking  about  Maurice  was  always  pleasant,  because 
Maurice  was  always  pleasant  himself. 

He  came  the  next  morning  and  found  her  out.  She 
was  n't  really  out,  but  he  had  no  way  of  knowing  that 
she  was  having  a  visit  from  Rita  Coghlan  and  did  n't 
want  to  be  interrupted.  He  scribbled  a  line  on  his 
card  saying  that  he  only  stopped  to  ask  if  she  'd  be 
at  home  at  four  and  to  telephone  112967803  Gerard 
at  once  if  she  would  be. 

"  Oh,  if  we  'd  known  that  it  was  him,  he  might  have 
come  up,"  Leslie  exclaimed,  much  disappointed  on 
seeing  the  card. 

"We  might  telephone  him  to  come  back,"  sug- 
gested Rita. 

"But  Mrs.  Snellgrove  is  lunching  with  Mrs.  Batt," 
said  Leslie,  who,  whenever  she  remembered  it,  was 
excessively  conventional. 

"But  I  'm  here,"  said  Rita. 

Upon  that  they  telephoned,  and  Maurice  came  back. 
The  luncheon  was  most  gay,  as,  between  the  dual  rec- 
ollections of  the  two  who  had  so  lately  been  there, 
Miss  Coghlan  was  fully  and  thoroughly  introduced 
to  Kenelm  and  its  Christmas  spirit. 


180  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"I  wish  I  could  see  the  dog !"  she  said  enviously. 

"I  '11  take  you  there  to  see  him  if  you  like,"  offered 
Maurice. 

They  canvassed  the  pros  and  cons  of  the  idea  for 
some  time,  but  finally  abandoned  it. 

"Then  let's  do  something  else  that's  fun,"  the 
young  man  suggested. 

"It 's  too  cold,"  said  Leslie. 

"It 's  grand  out,"  said  Maurice. 

"  Let 's  go  out,  then,"  suggested  Miss  Coghlan. 

"It  '11  be  cold,"  feared  Leslie. 

"But  you  must  go  if  I  say  so,"  said  Maurice. 

"But  you  're  not  engaged  still?"  said  Miss  Coghlan, 
-  "at  least  —  are  you?" 

"I  think  not;  are  we?"  Maurice  asked  Leslie. 

"Oh,  no,  indeed,"  said  Leslie.  "I  wouldn't  marry 
you  for  anything ! " 

''That  looks  as  if  it  were  all  off  —  for  me,"  said 
Maurice,  and  took  the  blow  bravely. 

"I  have  an  idea,"  Miss  Coghlan  exclaimed.  "Let 
us  go  out  to  the  fortune-teller ! " 

Leslie  dropped  her  fork.    "Oh,  let 's !"  she  cried. 

Maurice  acceded  readily,  as  he  couldn't  possibly 
have  refused  in  any  case. 

The  contrast  between  his  behavior  and  Mr.  Dane's 


LESLIE  GOES  FORTUNE-HUNTING    181 

was  most  refreshing.  ("  When  I  take  a  man  anywhere, 
I  take  a  nice  man,"  Leslie  said  to  Rita,  as  they  put 
on  their  hats  in  the  other  room.) 

They  walked  to  Piccadilly  and  saw  a  pleasantly 
disposed  'bus  coming  in  sight  almost  at  once. 

"We  will  sit  in  separate  seats  and  all  be  strangers," 
said  Rita  wickedly,  "and  then  we  '11  see  how  we  get 
on." 

"Well,  but  can  I  be  forward  or  must  I  be  timid?" 
asked  Maurice,  who  supposed  this  to  be  the  first  time 
they  had  played  that  game. 

"  You  must  be  a  gentleman,"  said  Rita. 

"But  if  he  is  a  gentleman,  and  we  behave  toe, 
we  won't  even  speak  all  the  way  out,"  objected 
Leslie. 

"There  must  be  a  proper  way  to  do  it,  since  your 
Kenelm  friends  made  so  many  nice  friends  on  'buses," 
said  Rita.  "  I  thought  —  being  American  —  you  'd 
know  how." 

"Leave  all  to  me,"  said  Maurice;  "if  you  are  not 
too  haughty,  I  '11  wager  anything  I  'm  on  speaking 
terms  with  both  before  we  reach  Hammersmith." 

They  climbed  up  at  that  and  sat  decorously  down, 
each  in  a  seat  alone.  The  omnibus  went  lumbering  on. 
It  was  astonishing  how  warm  and  pleasant  it  was  in 


182  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

the  sunshine  this  bitterly  cold  day  indoors.  Leslie  felt 
quite  comfortable,  and  very  happy. 

"Fare,"  said  the  guard  at  her  elbow. 

She  looked  up  with  a  start;  she  had  no  purse. 
"I've  no  money,"  she  said  to  the  guard;  "that 
gentleman — "  pointing  to  Maurice. 

"Me !"  said  Maurice,  hi  great  surprise. 

Leslie  turned  scarlet. 

"  Oh,  well,  of  course,  if  I  must,"  said  Maurice,  and 
paid,  darting  looks  of  astonishment  all  the  time. 

Miss  Coghlan  was  laughing  and  Leslie  was  vexed. 
"  I  think  this  is  a  stupid  game,"  she  declared  sincerely. 

"It 's  never  any  game  at  all,"  said  Rita;  "no  one 
ever  sticks  to  it  for  three  minutes." 

Thereupon  they  all  moved  to  seats  close  together 
and  talked  about  Kenelm  again. 

"Where  are  you  going  to  visit  next?"  Leslie  was 
asked. 

"I  'm  going  to  Germany,"  she  answered. 

"Are  you  going  to  stay  long?" 

"Two  or  three  weeks." 

"Shall  you  go  too?"  Miss  Coghlan  asked  Maurice. 

"Not  if  I  know  it,"  said  the  young  man. 

"Don't  you  like  Germany?" 

"I  like  London  better." 


LESLIE  GOES  FORTUNE-HUNTING    183 

It  is  a  very  long  ride  to  Hammersmith  on  an  omni- 
bus, and  conversation  is  apt  to  run  thin.  It  was  n't 
long  before  Leslie  wished  they  had  n't  come,  or  that 
Rita,  at  least,  had  n't  come,  with  all  her  heart. 

They  got  down  finally  at  Wolverham  Court  Road 
and  went  prowling  down  the  same  old  side  street. 
The  fortune-teller's  house  looked  so  exactly  like  every 
other  kind  of  a  body's  house  that  they  had  great  diffi- 
culty in  locating  it,  even  this  time.  After  they  found 
it,  Maurice  undertook  to  ring  the  bell  and  conduct  all 
the  negotiations.  Accordingly  he  went  up  the  steps 
and  rang,  and  in  due  time  the  attractive  maid  appeared 
and  smiled  upon  him.  Rita  and  Leslie  had  thought- 
fully turned  their  backs.  He  inquired  if  Miss  Aubrey 
was  at  home. 

"No,"  said  the  maid,  "Miss  Aubrey  has  gone  to  the 
Cat  Show." 

"Ah,  to  the  Cat  Show,  eh,"  said  Maurice,  with  Mr. 
Lewes'  reflective  and  judicial  air  of  accepting  every 
statement,  no  matter  how  trivial  on  its  surface,  with 
an  equally  impartial  judgment.  "Well,  to  the  Cat 
Show !  And  when  will  she  come  back?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  maid,  eyeing  her  inter- 
locutor with  a  puzzled  air.  "She  was  there  yesterday  4 
too." 


184  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"How  long  did  she  stay  yesterday?" 

"She  stayed  until  half-past  nine  o'clock." 

Maurice  looked  at  his  watch.  "  It  is  now  half-past 
three,"  he  said;  "it  hardly  seems  worth  while  to  wait, 
do  you  think?" 

The  maid  appeared  much  appalled  at  the  idea  of 
their  waiting. 

"She'll  naturally  be  later  to-night,  too,  because 
she  '11  know  the  cats  so  much  better  to-day,"  said 
Maurice.  "No,  I  don't  think  we  '11  wait." 

"What  name  shall  I  say?" 

Maurice  turned  to  his  two  companions.  "What 
name  shall  she  say?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  no  name,"  said  Rita  hastily. 

"Really,  our  names  would  be  of  no  service,"  said 
Maurice.  "Nobody  could  possibly  use  them  except 
ourselves,  you  know."  So  he  lifted  his  hat  and  turned 
away,  leaving  the  maid  dumb  and  staring. 

"  I  'm  so  disappointed,"  Leslie  said,  as  they  re- 
turned along  Wolverham  Court  Road;  "that 's  twice 
we  've  come  here  for  nothing,  and  it 's  such  a  way." 

"Let's  find  another,"  suggested  Maurice.  "  I've 
always  understood  they  were  thick  in  Hammersmith." 

"But  how  can  we  find  one?" 

"We  '11  ask  in  the  shops." 


LESLIE  GOES  FORTUNE-HUM  TING    185 

Behold  our  little  party  going  pleasantly  from  florist 
to  baker,  and  from  baker  to  tobacconist,  demanding  a 
fortune-teller.  But  with  small  success. 

One  dubious  lady  did  know  of  a  fortune-teller. 
"But  she  's  not  so  very  good/'  she  said  frankly. 

"Oh,  we  don't  mind  that,"  said  Maurice,  with  equal 
frankness;  "all  we  want  to  know  is,  does  she  tell 
good  fortunes?" 

The  lady  took  Maurice  most  seriously.  "One  of 
you  might  try  her,"  she  said,  "and  if  she  doesn't 
suit,  the  others  need  n't  go  in.  It 's  five  shillings ; 
that 's  a  good  bit  of  money,  is  n't  it?" 

Maurice  took  the  address. 

"Her  door  doesn't  open  on  the  street,"  said  the 
lady ;  "it 's  up  two  pair.  You  must  go  in  through  the 
door  of  No.  6." 

"  I  think  it 's  very  thoughtful  of  her  to  let  us  go  in 
through  No.  6,"  said  Maurice;  "because,  even  if  her 
door  did  open  on  the  street,  how  could  we  get  to  it 
'way  up  there." 

Leslie  thought  this  most  amusing,  but  the  lady 
seemed  to  think  it  half-witted  and  appeared  as  re- 
lieved when  they  left  her  shop  as  Miss  Aubrey's  maid 
had  appeared  when  they  left  her  door. 

They  hunted  long  and  fruitlessly  for  No.  6,  and 


186  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

the  cold  chill  winter  night  descended  on  them  still 
hunting. 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  let  's  give  it  up  and  go  and 
get  some  tea,"  said  Rita. 

"Does  the  Tube  run  by  here?"  Leslie  asked. 

"  Oh,  my  God,  that  patent  windmill ! "  said  Maurice. 
"Do  you  remember,  John?" 

"Fifteen  thousand  pounds,"  said  Miss  Coghlan 
promptly.  "Whatever  did  you  let  him  have  the 
money  for.  The  dog  disapproved  of  the  investment 
from  the  start." 

"Press  the  bell,"  said  Leslie. 

Then  they  all  laughed. 

"  If  we  behave  in  this  manner  ladies  of  unblemished 
reputation  like  John  Phillips  will  soon  cease  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  us,"  said  Leslie  most  severely. 

"  I  believe  you  are  quite  right  there,"  said  Maurice, 
and  just  then  a  taxicab  direct  from  heaven  descended 
on  them.  They  got  in  at  once  and  left  Rita  at  home 
first. 

"  If  we  had  found  the  fortune-teller  in  and  she  had 
said  that  you  were  going  to  marry  me,  would  you 
have  believed  her?"  Maurice  asked,  when  he  and 
Leslie  were  left  alone  in  the  cozy  corners  and  were 
speeding  on  fast. 


LESLIE  GOES  FORTUNE-HUNTING    187 

"No,"  said  Leslie,  "of  course  not." 

"If  she  had  said  that  you  were  going  to  marry 
Witney,  would  you  have  believed  her?" 

"No.  I  wouldn't  believe  any  fortune-teller  unless 
she  said  that  I  was  going  to  marry  Hugo  Guilford." 

"My  goodness  me/'  said  Maurice,  "what  is  the  use 
of  going  to  them  at  all,  then?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Leslie  quite  seriously.  "I 
suppose  there  really  is  not  any  use,  but  I  just  love  to 
go  to  them.  I  go  every  chance  I  get.  I  'm  always 
expecting  to  find  one  that  will  tell  me  that  I  'm  going 
to  marry  him." 

Which  explained  to  Maurice  why  fortune-tellers 
throve. 


CHAPTER  XVH 

LESLIE  SAYS  GOOD-BT 

THE  afternoon  before  she  was  to  depart  for  Germany, 
Witney  took  tea  with  Leslie,  and  somehow  or  other 
stayed  on  to  dinner.  It  was  very  unconventional  and 
delightful,  and  the  best  thing  about  it  was  that  Mrs. 
Snellgrove  was  dining  with  Mrs.  Batt. 

"It 's  hard  to  say  which  is  the  more  agreeable  ad- 
junct to  your  life,  Mrs.  Snellgrove  or  Mrs.  Batt,  is  n't 
it?"  said  Witney,  who  had  settled  it  for  himself  that 
he  was  probably  going  to  marry  Leslie,  and  so  always 
felt  pleasantly  disposed  in  her  presence.  "I  declare, 
I  can't  say  which  of  the  two  I  like  best." 

"You  've  never  seen  Mrs.  Batt,  have  you?"  Leslie 
asked,  in  a  tone  of  real  curiosity. 

"No;  what  is  she  like?" 

"  I  don't  know,  I  've  never  seen  her.  What  should 
I  ever  see  her  for.  I  'm  grateful  to  her  for  existing, 
because  she  keeps  Mrs.  Snellgrove  happy,  but  beyond 
that  I  never  give  her  a  second's  thought." 


LESLIE  SAYS  GOOD-BY  189 

"Why  do  you  have  a  companion,  anyway?" 
asked  Witney.  "Companions  only  exist  to  be  gotten 
out  of  the  way." 

"Oh,  but  it  would  never  do  for  me  to  live  alone," 
said  Leslie,  much  shocked;  "it  wouldn't  be  proper. 
It  would  be  like  Daisy  Miller." 

"And  no  American  ever  desired  to  be  like  Daisy 
Miller,  that 's  certain/'  laughed  Witney. 

"She  was  horrid,"  said  Leslie,  with  conviction.  "I 
always  feel  so  sorry  for  that  nice  man's  aunt." 

Hugo  had  been  gone  so  long  and  been  silent  for  so 
long  that  Leslie  was  beginning  to  think  he  could  n't 
pardon  the  Pinkerton  investigation  and  had  thrown 
her  over  altogether.  Whenever  she  thought  seriously 
she  knew  better,  but  sometimes  when  she  thought 
seriously  she  grew  very  angry  and  considered  that  it 
would  serve  Hugo  right  if  she  married  Witney  —  or 
Maurice —  or  any  other  man.  It  did  n't  so  much 
matter  what  man,  so  long  as  it  served  Hugo  right. 
When  Leslie  thought  that  Hugo  did  n't  love  her,  she 
felt  equal  to  marrying  any  man  just  to  prove  to  him 
that  she  did  n't  love  him  either.  The  really  odd  part 
of  her  logical  deduction  consisted  hi  the  fact  that  when 
she  was  with  Witney  she  thought  she  preferred  Mau- 
rice, and  when  she  was  with  Maurice  she  thought  that 


190  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

she  preferred  Captain  Melton  (who  had  lately  come 
to  town),  and  when  she  was  with  Captain  Melton  she 
wondered  who  she  might  be  going  to  meet  at  Schloss 
Morgenlicht.  It  was  all  odd,  and  only  illustrated  anew 
how  blind  Love  always  is,  since  so  often  he  cannot 
pick  a  winner,  even  with  the  winner  stuck  on  the 
other  end  of  his  own  arrow. 

But  Witney  felt  very  sure.  There  was  something 
about  Leslie  that  made  for  a  great  sensation  of  security 
among  her  men  friends.  It  was  a  peculiar  personal 
attribute,  and  one  most  difficult  to  analyze.  Hugo, 
who  shared  it  with  the  rest,  and  who  bitterly  resented 
it  in  the  rest,  had  once  in  great  wrath  declared  it  owing 
to  the  way  that  she  looked  at  them.  Leslie  had  wiped 
her  eyes  sadly  in  the  face  of  the  vile  accusation  and 
declared  that  she  never  did  it  —  never. 

"You  do,  too,"  Hugo  swore  angrily,  "even  to  police- 
men. It 's  outrageous." 

Then  they  had  parted  forever  for  three  days  and 
nine  hours. 

But,  whatever  she  did,  it  had  its  effect,  even  on 
Maurice,  who  was  also  beginning  to  think  that 
maybe  —  And  as  for  Captain  Melton  —  he  had  n't 
a  doubt.  It  was  Witney,  however,  who  felt  surest, 
and  so  naturally  the  dinner  went  merrily  forward. 


LESLIE  SAYS  GOOD-BY  191 

"What  crossing  do  you  make  to-morrow?"  the 
guest  asked,  when  they  arrived  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  salad. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Leslie,  "we  haven't  looked 
it  up  yet.  If  I  wake  up  in  time  I  want  to  cross  in  the 
day.  But  it  takes  so  many  rugs  to  cross  in  the  day. 
I  think  night's  better;  but  the  state-rooms  are  so 
narrow." 

"Are  you  going  Flushing  or  the  Hook?" 

"  I  don't  know ;  Rose  sees  to  all  that.  I  want  to  go 
to  Antwerp,  —  the  Scheldt  takes  so  long  to  get  up 
that  you  can  sleep  till  eight.  And  I  think  Antwerp  's 
interesting ;  I  like  to  pick  out  the  descendants  of  the 
Spanish  soldiers." 

"There  are  some  good  pictures  there,  too,"  said 
Witney,  who  was  really  very  cultivated. 

"Yes  —  and  it 's  so  near  Brussels;  I  buy  all  my 
hats  in  Brussels." 

Witney,  not  being  married  to  her,  laughed 
at  this.  Even  had  he  been  married  to  her  he 
might  still  have  laughed,  for  hats  are  very  cheap 
in  Brussels. 

Later  they  went  over  by  the  fire  and  had  coffee. 
It  was  very  peaceful  and  pleasant,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  things  might  as  well  be  brought  a  little  forward 


192  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

now  as  left  hanging  fire  indefinitely.  The  visitor  was 
considering  how  to  bring  them  a  little  forward  when 
Captain  Melton  was  announced  and  jarred  the  whole 
scheme  of  life  sadly.  The  two  men  had  never  liked 
one  another,  and  were  certainly  not  rejoiced  over  this 
meeting.  Leslie  didn't  know  what  to  do  except  sit 
between  them  and  try  to  agree  with  both  at  once.  This 
proved  difficult. 

Captain  Melton  thought  the  German  situation  grave, 
and  Witney  thought  it  ludicrous;  Melton  said  each 
time  we  had  been  invaded  we  had  been  conquered,  and 
Witney  said  wherever  we  went  we  always  conquered, 
and  so  we  had  conquered  England,  too;  from  this 
happy  set-to  they  flew  to  Japan,  and  one  called  the 
Japanese  the  race  of  the  future,  while  the  other  con- 
sidered them  the  last  gasp  of  the  past.  On  Russia 
and  the  income  tax  they  were  equally  divided.  One 
thought  the  king  a  statesman,  and  the  other  thought 
him  a  figure-head.  One  saw  the  future  roseate,  and 
the  other  pointed  out  that  in  a  single  year  trade  had 
fallen  off  one  hundred  million  pounds.  In  the  midst 
of  it  all  the  door  opened  and  Maurice  walked  in,  and 
if  there  was  a  subject  that  the  two  Englishmen  could 
and  did  agree  upon,  it  was  hi  detesting  Maurice. 
Witney  had  always  resented  Maurice's  ambassadorial 


LESLIE  SAYS  GOOD-BY  193 

credentials  at  Kenelm,  and  Melton  despised  American 
men  now  in  place  of  women. 

All  of  which  did  not  trouble  the  sweet-tempered 
Maurice  in  the  least.  He  at  once  pulled  a  chair  up 
close  to  Leslie  and  began  to  talk  to  her,  thus  throwing 
the  other  two  most  emphatically  upon  themselves. 
This  made  Witney  so  disgusted  that  he  rose  almost 
at  once  and  departed,  leaving  Melton  and  the  latest 
arrival  to  fight  it  out  to  a  finish.  They  fought. 

It  was  a  second  well-bred  battle,  but  the  clash  of 
nationalities  made  the  interest  keener.  No  man, 
however  furious,  could  ever  be  other  than  forced  to 
his  best  with  Maurice,  who  was  suave  to  the  manner 
born.  And  the  captain  was  a  clever  fencer,  too.  Each 
used  his  foil  without  any  button  on  the  end.  Leslie 
sat  and  just  gasped  this  time. 

They  were  so  charming  to  one  another.  They  were 
so  interested  hi  one  another.  Melton  inwardly  hoped 
that  Maurice  was  just  out  making  calls,  and  Maurice 
inwardly  knew  that  this  was  his  last  call  this  evening, 
and  that  having  come  latest  he  would  have  the  right 
to  stay  last.  That  gave  him  a  secret  spiritual  ad- 
vantage over  the  other  that  he  used  with  great 
magnanimity. 

They  talked  of  the  theatre.    Melton  had  been  at 


194  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

the  one  representation  of  So-and-so  before  the  Lord 
Chancellor  closed  it  up.  He  looked  at  Maurice  tri- 
umphantly. But  Maurice  had  been  at  two  of  the 
rehearsals.  Maurice  opined  that  if  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor had  been  at  the  rehearsals,  Captain  Melton 
would  never  have  seen  the  piece  at  all.  This  was 
indeed  drawing  blood.  Melton  grew  quite  savage, 
but  all  he  said  was  "  God  bless  my  soul ;  look  at  that 
clock!"  Maurice  looked  at  the  clock  with  an  im- 
partial air,  as  if,  even  had  he  been  Lord  Chancellor, 
he  would  have  thought  it  only  right  to  let  the  clock 
go  on  running. 

They  discoursed  on  the  Art  Exhibit  next,  and  there, 
too,  the  captain  found  himself  among  reefs  just  as  he 
had  gotten  all  sail  up.  Then  they  flew  at  airships, 
Melton  having  been  out  with  Santos-Dumont. 

"It's  curious  up  there,  isn't  it?"  said  Maurice 
indifferently. 

"Yes,  until  you  get  used  to  it,"  said  the  captain. 

"  I  'm  well  accustomed  to  them,"  said  Maurice. 
"  I  'm  one  of  the  elect  to  have  been  allowed  carte 
blanche  to  that  government  balloon  park  they  Ve  got 
just  outside  of  Paris." 

Melton  seemed  again  close  to  losing  his  temper. 
Leslie  sat  pink  and  miserable.  She  wished  that  her 


LESLIE  SAYS  GOOD-BY  195 

countryman  would  n't,  but  did  n't  know  how  to  stop 
him.  She  took  off  her  bracelet  and  read  all  that  was 
engraved  inside.  When  Maurice's  eyes  were  on  the 
ground  she  looked  appealingly  at  the  captain,  and 
when  the  captain's  eyes  were  on  the  ground  she 
looked  appealingly  at  Maurice.  Neither  took  her 
speechless  hint.  Then  she  tried  to  put  the  bracelet 
on  again. 

"Shall  I  fasten  it  for  you?"  Maurice  asked  in  a  soft, 
tender  tone,  as  if  he  and  he  alone  had  thoroughly 
mastered  the  intricacies  of  that  particular  fastening. 
It  was  bitterly  unfair  of  him,  for  he  had  never  laid 
eyes  on  it  before.  Leslie  turned  pale,  and  the  captain 
turned  green. 

"I  can  do  it  myself,  thank  you,"  she  murmured, 
and  Maurice  smiled  in  a  superior  manner,  as  if  she 
would  have  her  little  joke. 

"Well,  I  must  be  running  along,"  said  the  English- 
man, jumping  up  abruptly.  Leslie  rose  then,  and 
Maurice  rose,  too.  She  was  uneasy,  but  Maurice  was 
as  calm  as  ever.  He  went  to  the  tea-table,  took  up 
a  teacup  with  a  green  dragon  on  it  and  carefully 
examined  the  design.  It  made  him  appear  in  a  pecu- 
liarly good  light,  only  Leslie  knew  he  could  see  the 
whole  room  in  the  pier-glass  opposite. 


196  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

She  gave  her  hand  to  the  captain,  who  shook  it 
gently. 

"What  time  do  you  go  to-morrow,"  he  said,  trying 
to  see  her  without  allowing  Maurice,  who  was  standing 
just  behind  her,  to  completely  spoil  the  perspective. 

"I  don't  know  yet,"  she  said  unhappily;  "we 
have  n't  looked  it  out  yet." 

"I  'm  to  have  your  address,  at  all  events,"  said  the 
captain,  hoping  that  the  young  man  heard  that,  "  and 
I  may  be  in  Berlin  in  February." 

"I  do  hope  so,"  she  said  weakly. 

Then  he  shook  her  hand  again,  pressed  it  hard,  and 
let  it  go.  Then  he  shook  hands  with  Maurice  in  a 
prompt,  tart  manner,  and  let  his  go,  too.  Then  he 
quitted  the  room  and  left  them  together. 

Leslie  went  over  by  the  fire,  rested  her  elbow  on  the 
chimney-piece  and  her  forehead  on  her  hand. 

"Why  didn't  you  send  him  away  an  hour  ago?" 
Maurice,  back  examining  the  cup  again,  asked. 

"How  could  I?  I  never  want  to  offend  men.  One 
may  want  to  marry  them  some  day.  You  were  horrid 
to  him,  I  think." 

"Do  you  think  seriously  of  marrying  every  man 
you  meet?"  he  asked,  putting  down  the  cup  now  and 
coming  to  her  side. 


LESLIE  SAYS  GOOD-BY  197 

"One  can  never  tell." 

Maurice  was  silent.  The  clock  ticked  loudly. 
"Guess  who  I  'm  thinking  of?"  the  man  said  low. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Leslie,  feeling  very  sure  that 
he  ought  to  go.  She  always  knew  intuitively  when 
men  ought  to  go. 

" Won't  you  ask  who?"  said  the  sweet-toned 
Maurice. 

She  hesitated.  He  took  her  hand  and  pressed  it 
very  nicely  and  neatly  indeed,  until  finally  he  pressed 
an  answer  out  of  her.  "Who?"  she  asked  softly. 

"Mrs.  Snellgrove  and  Mrs.  Batt,"  he  replied 
wickedly. 

It  was  too  bad  that  Maurice  never  could  wholly 
rise  above  his  sense  of  the  ludicrous.  If  he  really  had 
wanted  Leslie,  he  lost  her  then  and  there ;  for  she  had 
a  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  also. 

"Maurice,  that  was  not  gentlemanly,"  she  said,  and 
burst  out  laughing. 

In  spite  of  themselves  they  were  forever  quoting 
Kenelm  in  serious  seconds. 

He  laughed,  too,  and  then,  when  he  saw  how  heart- 
ily she  laughed,  he  felt  suddenly  slightly  hurt.  It  was 
the  work  of  but  a  second  for  a  man  to  turn  Leslie  sober, 
however,  and  now  this  one  merely  flung  himself  int^ 


198  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

a  big  chair  and  held  out  his  arms.  "As  long  as  you 
have  a  companion  it 's  all  right,  even  if  she  is  dining 
with  Mrs.  Batt,"  he  proposed;  "and  if  you  don't  see 
it  as  I  do,  why,  be  a  sister  to  me.  I  'm  feeling  so 
brotherly  to-night." 

Leslie  turned  dreadfully  serious  at  once  and  looked 
at  him.  He  looked  very  inviting,  but  what  the  gay 
Maurice  had  n't  just  calculated  on  was  that  Hugo 
stood  —  as  ever  —  sentinel  over  her. 

"Oh,  I  can't,"  she  said,  the  tears  starting  in  spite 
of  herself.  "  I  want  to,  but  I  must  n't." 

"As  a  mother,"  then,  pleaded  Maurice;  "or  as  a 
young  aunt?  Please!  Come!" 

"No,"  said  Leslie  miserably.  "I  'd  be  sure  to  kiss 
you,  even  if  you  were  n't  sure  to  kiss  me.  You  'd 
better  go,  I  think."  She  was  very  sure  of  that  now. 

"As  a  step-grandmother,"  suggested  Maurice,  his 
humor  waxing  wilder;  "or,  if  you  will  have  it  so, 
I  '11  turn  off  the  lights  and  play  you  're  my  real 
grandmother.  You  can't  think  how  fond  I  am  of  my 
real  grandmother.  Come.  Do/' 

She  could  n't  help  laughing,  he  was  so  droll ;  but 
she  knew  now  that  he  must  go  and  at  once.  And  just 
then  Mrs.  Snellgrove  was  heard  saying  good-by  to 
Mrs.  Batt  in  the  hall  below. 


LESLIE  SAYS  GOOD-BY  199 

"Now  you  never  will  know  how  I  feel  about  my 
real  grandmother,"  said  Maurice,  rising  with  regret. 
"The  way  you  let  your  chances  like  sunbeams  pass 
you  by  is  certainly  going  to  be  a  shock  to  you  when  the 
well  runs  dry." 

And  he  kissed  her  hand  most  beautifully  and  de- 
parted. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Snellgrove,"  Leslie  exclaimed,  the  in- 
stant her  chaperone  came  in,  "did  you  remember  to 
ask  Rose  if  she  put  in  my  white  coat?  I  've  been  so 
worried  for  fear  she  'd  forgotten  it  that  I  Ve  not 
thought  of  another  thing  since  I  had  my  tea." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

LESLIE   PARTS  WITH  MAURICE 

IT  was  understood  that  Leslie  hated  to  be  seen  off,  so 
naturally  it  was  quite  hi  keeping  with  Maurice's  char- 
acter to  insist  on  doing  so.  He  arrived  just  one  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  before  she  ought  to  leave  the  house, 
and  all  that  she  could  do  under  the  circumstances  was 
to  cry  from  the  sleeping-room  beyond  the  dressing- 
room  which  connected  with  the  sitting-room,  "Good- 
ness me,"  and  then  he  was  left  alone  in  aforesaid 
sitting-room  to  try  and  think  what  was  gone  out  of 
it  —  besides  Leslie  herself. 

"I  suppose  you  are  all  dressed?"  he  called  out, 
after  awhile. 

"Oh,  yes,  long  ago,"  she  called  back. 

He  could  n't  possibly  know  that  she  and  Rose  were 
engaged  in  "putting  in  the  Jast  things,"  Rose  having 
been  unexpectedly  delayed  by  an  accident  —  an  un- 
expected "last  errand." 

"Is  Mrs.  Snellgrove  there?"  Maurice  called,  hi 
further  query. 


LESLIE  PARTS  WITH  MAURICE       201 

"No,  she  's  at  Mrs.  Batt's.  It 's  Mrs.  Batt's  birth- 
day," Leslie  called  back.  "It  seemed  so  dreadful  to 
ask  them  both  to  sacrifice  Mrs.  Batt's  birthday  to  me. 
Mrs.  Batt  has  a  birthday  only  once  a  year,  and  you 
know  how  frequent  I  am." 

Maurice  pondered  this  for  a  whole  minute,  and  then, 
"Can't  I  come  and  help,"  in  a  very  sweet  voice  that 
she  knew,  oh,  so  well.  "I'm  so  good  at  helping." 
He  always  forgot  that  she  kept  a  maid. 

"  I  'm  not  sure  of  that,"  laughed  Leslie. 

Maurice  knew  so  little  about  ladies'  sleeping-rooms 
that  he  always  thought  of  them  as  places  of  strict 
seclusion.  "Do  let  me  help,"  he  cried  again,  all  un- 
witting that  the  porter  and  another  man  had  now 
entered  beyond  for  the  trunks  and  were  locking  and 
strapping  the  same.  "I  don't  need  any  help,"  Leslie 
(who  was  putting  on  her  veil)  called  back. 

"  A  woman  always  needs  help,"  suggested  Maurice, 
in  a  tender  voice  that  yet  had  to  be  strong  enough  to 
sweep  through  a  dressing-room  and  two  pairs  of 
portieres. 

"Not  always,"  said  Leslie,  accepting  a  hat-pin  from 
Rose,  who  was  working  hard  to  remain  demure. 

"  You  'd  better  prove  my  worth  while  you  've  the 
chance." 


202  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Then  she  hurried  suddenly  hi  upon  him.  "Oh,  I  'm 
glad  to  see  you.  I  've  had  company  ever  since  I  woke. 
Women  on  the  bed,  women  on  the  trunks,  they  all  but 
perched  on  my  tooth-brush  and  my  bath." 

Maurice  laughed  —  but  not  very  heartily.  Now 
that  she  was  right  before  him,  it  came  over  him  that 
he  was  going  to  miss  her  awfully !  Leslie  was  one  of 
the  most  missable  women  imaginable. 

"When  do  you  suppose  you  '11  be  coming  back?" 
he  asked,  holding  his  gloves  disconsolately  behind  his 
back  and  wondering  how  much  he  might  dare  to  dare 
at  the  very  last  minute. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Leslie.  "I  wouldn't  count 
on  my  coming  back  at  all,  if  I  were  you.  If  I  meet  a 
nice  German  I  may  marry  one.  I  think  I  could  love 
anything  as  perfect  as  they  consider  a  man  to  be  over 
there." 

Maurice  sighed. 

"Don't  do  that,"  said  Leslie;  "you  '11  depress  the 
dog." 

"The  dog's  depressed  already,"  said  Maurice.  "I 
do  wish  you  'd  kiss  me  good-by." 

U0h,  I  couldn't  possibly,"  said  Leslie.  "Mrs. 
Snellgrove  is  at  Mrs.  Batt's,  and  you  know  very  well 
that  I  would  n't  even  if  she  was  n't." 


LESLIE  PARTS  WITH  MAURICE       203 

"I  think  that  she  ought  to  have  stayed  home  to 
see  you  off." 

"Why  should  she?  She  isn't  a  bit  of  use.  I'm 
always  only  too  pleased  when  she  goes  out.  I  think 
a  chaperone  is  a  horrible  idea ;  they  are  so  in  the  way, 
and  men  never  like  them.  I  '11  be  so  glad  if  I  ever 
marry  again,  so  that  Mrs.  Snellgrove  can  go  and  live 
permanently  with  Mrs.  Batt.  It 's  her  dream,  and 
it 's  getting  to  be  mine  too." 

"I  hope  she  '11  realize  it  soon,"  said  Maurice.  "She 
can  count  on  me  to  help  her  get  under  way  any  time." 

He  thought  this  rather  neat,  but  his  companion 
did  n't  seem  to  hear  it.  She  was  buttoning  her  glore. 

"Let  me,"  said  Maurice. 

"It 's  done  now." 

"  I  'm  sure  that  you  '11  be  exactly  like  Mrs.  Levres 
when  you  're  her  age,"  said  Maurice  vindictively. 
"You  are  finding  out  new  little  ways  to  make  life 
trying  for  your  guests  every  day." 

"I  don't  call  you  my  guest,"  said  Leslie;  "the  rent 
for  these  rooms  ran  out  twenty  minutes  ago,  and  you 
came  without  being  invited,  anyway." 

"A  very  unkind  speech,"  said  Maurice,  and  began  to 
put  on  his  own  gloves  at  once. 

"I  hear  the  carriage,"  said  Leslie,  who,  whatever 


204  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

she  might  do  sometime,  had  fully  decided  to  never 
marry  Maurice. 

All  this  led  to  the  fact  that  when  once  they  were  in 
the  carriage  life  became  extremely  serious,  not  to 
say  doleful. 

"How  pretty  the  park  looks!"  Maurice  said  sadly, 
trying  to  take  her  hand  and  failing. 

"  You  '11  remember  me  to  Mrs.  Lewes  when  you 
meet  her,  won't  you?"  said  Leslie,  wishing  he  were 
Witney.  (Witney  was  a  gentleman  through  and 
through,  and  although  she  was  fairly  sure  that  he 
loved  her  pretty  well,  still  she  knew  that  he  would 
never  take  her  hand.) 

"  We  did  have  a  jolly  Christmas,  did  n't  we?"  said 
Maurice,  with  fresh  mournfulness. 

"Oh,  I  '11  never  forget  that  awful  cold !"  said  Leslie, 
her  heart  thrilling  at  the  recollection. 

With  that  both  hands  got  right  into  the  muff  —  the 
old  familiar  muff;  it  seemed  only  natural. 

"Next  time  I  shall  go  to  the  Man  and  the  Hen," 
Maurice  announced  with  decision.  "You  will,  too, 
won't  you?" 

"That's  what  Alice  and  the  Boots  did,"  said 
Leslie.  "Kimberly  told  me  they  went  right  straight 
there." 


LESLIE  PARTS  WITH  MAURICE       205 

"I  sympathized  with  Alice  and  the  Boots,"  said 
Maurice.  "I  envied  them  their  cozy  corners." 

"Of  course  they  must  have  been  cold  too,"  Leslie 
said  simply. 

London  was  almost  as  sad  as  Maurice  when  they 
got  down  into  the  city.  "  Is  n't  it  dirty?  "  Leslie  said. 

"I  'm  going  to  miss  you  so  terribly !"  said  Maurice, 
sighing.  "You  '11  write,  of  course?" 

"  If  I  have  time." 

"Won't  you  make  it,  for  me?"  (The  tenderness  of 
his  voice !) 

"Don't  be  foolish." 

They  reached  the  station  at  last.  It  was  even 
sadder  than  the  city.  It  looked  as  if  one  half  of  the 
inhabitants  had  just  buried  the  other  half  and  were 
rushing  across  the  Channel  to  enjoy  their  inheritances 
without  letting  it  show  in  their  faces.  The  usual 
mountains  of  sturdy,  well-worn,  sole-leather  English 
luggage.  The  usual  intermixing  grouping  of  severe- 
nosed  English  ladies  and  plaid-coated  English  gentle- 
men. Leslie  had  to  pay  thirteen  shillings  excess, 
which  troubled  the  porter  very  much. 

"And  now  I  must  put  you  into  your  coupe","  said 
the  merry  Maurice,  looking  ready  to  weep.  "I  do 
wor.der  when  I  '11  see  you  again !" 


206  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Don't  take  it  so  much  to  heart,"  said  Leslie;  "if 
I  ever  marry  we  '11  have  you  often  for  week-ends. 
I  'm  sure  I  hope  he  '11  do  a  little  thing  like  that  for 
you  and  me." 

This  quite  stung  Maurice.  "  Oh,  I  '11  be  all  over  it 
this  time  to-morrow,"  he  said  brightly.  "It  hurts 
to-day,  but  you  mustn't  suppose  for  a  minute  that 
it 's  anything  really  serious." 

"Oh,  I  know,"  said  Leslie. 

Then  he  tucked  her  into  the  coupe,  and  a  little  later 
the  locomotive  pulled  them  far  apart. 

"Rose,"  said  Leslie,  "I  'm  so  glad  that  you  speak 
German." 

"Yes,  madame,"  said  Rose. 

"We'll  have  a  nice  time  this  time,"  Leslie  said 
comfortably. 

"Yes,  madame,"  said  Rose. 


IT  is  most  unfortunate  and  uncomfortable  for  those 
traveling  from  England  to  Germany  that  Germany 
has  not  managed  to  stretch  to  the  ocean.  The  trip 
between  is  very  long  and  tedious,  and  altogether  dis- 
agreeable. There  is  really  nothing  but  the  custom- 
house to  break  the  day,  and  it  is  a  sad  commentary 
oa  custom-houses  that  no  traveler,  however  bored, 
ever  enjoyed  getting  down  and  getting  a  breath  of 
fresh  air  in  that  way. 

Schloss  Morgenlicht  not  having  been  thoughtful 
enough  to  anticipate  the  Through-Berlin-Express  and 
locate  itself  conveniently,  Leslie  and  Rose  spent  the 
last  of  the  afternoon  wriggling  down  through  a  dis- 
banded kingdom  and  an  old  grand-duchy  to  the  end 
that  they  might  at  any  rate  get  to  bed  where  beds 
were  awaiting  them. 

"You  won't  forget  to  find  out  where  to  put  the 
coal  into  my  stove,  will  you?"  said  the  mistress  to  the 


208  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

maid,  as  they  waited  at  a  certain  bleak  junction. 
"  You  know  in  really  nice  houses  they  never  have  the 
coal  put  directly  into  the  stove;  all  that  is  managed 
two  rooms  and  a  hall  away." 

"  Yes,  madame,"  said  the  obediently  disposed  Rose. 

"And  don't  forget  looking  in  everything  for  spiders. 
Some  man  told  me  that  they  're  everywhere  in  Ger- 
many —  and  seems  to  me  he  mentioned  slippers  par- 
ticularly. Don't  you  go  and  put  anything  on  me,  or 
give  me  anything  to  put  on,  that 's  got  spiders  in  it." 

*'0h,  certainly  not,"  said  Rose,  much  shocked  at 
the  idea. 

"I  do  wonder  how  low  they  wear  dresses  hi 
schlosses,"  Leslie  reflected;  "not  that  it  matters,  for 
I  've  frocks  all  heights." 

It  was  about  six  o'clock  when  they  finally  reached 
Abendstadt,  the  nearest  railway  connection  for  their 
destination.  The  Graf  was  on  the  station  platform, 
with  a  footman.  After  he  had  kissed  Leslie's  hand, 
he  explained  that  his  wife  would  have  come  too,  only 
that  the  morning  mail  had  rather  upset  her. 

"Oh,  I  hope  nothing  has  happened,"  said  Leslie 
anxiously. 

"No,  nothing  has  happened,  but  something  is  going 
f  .j  happen,"  said  the  Graf,  and  then  he  led  her  to  the 


LESLIE  AND  A  REAL  SCHLOSS       209 

carriage.  The  drive  that  followed  was  absolutely 
charming.  First  the  cozy,  little,  red-roofed  village, 
and  then  the  Tannenwald  Weg  of  Rittergut  Morgen- 
licht.  Two  miles  straight  of  cut  forest  with  occasional 
wide  sweeps  of  clear  snow,  pheasants  whirring  across 
the  open,  and  deer  peeping  forth  and  then  leaping 
lightly  away  as  the  carriage  approached. 

"  Is  that  the  schloss?  "  Leslie  asked,  as  they  emerged 
from  the  forest  and  saw  on  a  hill  to  the  right  a  grand 
old  donjon  glowering  down  at  them.  It  had  two 
round  towers  with  pointed  tops,  and  another,  bigger 
tower  behind,  and  was  most  romantic  looking. 

"No,"  said  the  Graf,  "that  is  Schloss  Liebesthal. 
You  '11  meet  him  to-morrow  at  dinner." 

Leslie  was  much  struck  at  the  idea  of  having  a 
castle  to  dinner.  "Is  he  interesting?"  she  queried. 

"He's  the  most  disagreeable  man  with  the  best 
manners  you  ever  met,"  said  the  Graf;  "don't  trust 
him,  whatever  you  do.  Marry  him,  if  you  like,  but 
never  believe  a  word  he  says.  Oh,  he  's  an  awful  brute ! 
I  know  him  well ;  he  's  our  nearest  neighbor." 

Leslie  promised  not  to  place  the  slightest  confidence 
in  Schloss  Liebesthal,  and,  as  they  were  now  entering 
another  wood,  he  was  soon  lost  to  view. 

"My  wife  will  be  so  glad  to  see  you,"  said  the 


210  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Graf  presently:  "you'll  divert  her  mind.  She  is 
upset." 

"I  'm  so  sorry,"  Leslie  said.  "I  suppose  I  may  n't 
ask  you  what  is  the  trouble?  " 

"I  could  n't  do  it  justice,"  said  the  Graf;  "all  I  can 
say  is,  she  brought  it  on  herself.  Remember  that." 

Leslie  promised  to  remember. 

"It  '11  be  rather  pleasant  for  you  here  just  now," 
the  Graf  went  on  soon.  "  You  see,  Fu'rst  Wartenstein 
is  having  a  Jagd  party  at  Steinwarten,  and  we  know 
them  all.  You  '11  like  Wartenstein ;  his  mother  was 
a  Von  Kracht  and  her  mother  was  —  well,  I  don't 
remember  just  now  what  she  was,  but  I  believe  Goethe 
wanted  to  marry  her,  or  else  she  went  to  England  with 
George  I;  but  everybody  knows  all  about  her,  so 
don't  show  your  ignorance  by  asking  any  questions." 

Leslie  promised  not  to  ask  any  questions;  she  was 
more  than  a  little  grateful  to  the  count  for  posting 
her  up  so  generously. 

"We  are  nearly  there,"  he  said,  as  they  rounded  a 
slight  hill.  "You  want  to  look  at  that  monument; 
it  was  put  up  to  the  memory  of  Varus  by  my  great- 
grandfather. He  wrote  a  little  book  about  Varus, 
and  he  put  up  that  monument  to  him,  and  named  my 
grandfather  after  him." 


LESLIE  AND  A  REAL  SCHLOSS       211 

"I  thought  the  Germans  were  all  so  proud  of  —  of 
the  man  who  fought  Varus,"  said  Leslie. 

"Thej  are,  generally,  but  my  great-grandfather 
abhorred  war.  It  must  have  been  a  kind  of  presenti- 
ment of  his,  for  he  was  shot  by  Napoleon." 

"Oh,  dear,"  said  Leslie,  "how  sad!" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  Graf;  "he  was  an  awful 
beast.  There,  that 's  the  castle." 

Leslie  looked  out  quickly. 

Schloss  Morgenlicht  stood  in  a  large  open  space  in 
the  middle  of  its  own  park.  It  was  a  perfectly  tre- 
mendous building,  with  tiers  on  tiers  of  windows,  and 
towers  on  battlements,  with  more  battlements  on  top 
of  the  towers.  Around  the  back  were  grouped  long 
ranges  of  stone  buildings,  and  the  remains  of  a  moat 
were  visible  here  and  there.  The  effect  of  the  whole 
entourage  was  imposing  in  the  extreme.  Stone  lions 
guarded  the  main  entrance,  and  stone  knights  guarded 
the  lions. 

The  carriage  stopped  before  the  steps,  and  a  footman 
came  ninning  out  and  down  to  open  the  door.  The 
Graf  and  Leslie  got  out.  They  went  up  the  steps  and 
into  a  large  hall,  where  a  grand,  old,  oak  staircase 
wound  solemnly  around,  and  antlers  and  banners  hung 
all  about. 


212  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"We  will  go  to  my  wife  at  once,"  said  the  Graf,  and 
led  the  way  on  up  the  staircase.  Leslie  felt  an  alto- 
gether different  sensation  from  that  which  had  ushered 
her  in  upon  Mrs.  Lewes.  She  was  genuinely  impressed 
now.  There  's  such  a  wide  space  between  new  position 
and  old. 

Half-way  up  the  solemn  slope  they  met  the  Grafin, 
coming  down  to  meet  and  welcome  her  friend.  She 
was  a  fair,  sweet,  blonde  woman  and  undeniably 
pleased  to  see  Leslie. 

"This  is  so  kind  of  you,"  she  said,  kissing  her 
warmly  on  both  cheeks,  quite  as  if ,  in  accepting  her 
invitation,  Leslie  had  conferred  some  unwonted  honor 
upon  her. 

"But  I  was  delighted  to  come,"  said  Leslie;  "be- 
sides wanting  to  visit  with  you,  I  think  that  it  will  be 
such  fun  living  in  an  old,  old  castle."  She  smiled  most 
heartily. 

"As  to  the  fun  of  living  in  an  old,  old  castle,  I  don't 
know,"  said  the  Grafin,  leading  the  way  into  a  warm 
and  sunny  sitting-room,  looking  out  over  the  park. 
"The  roof  is  forever  to  be  mended,  and  the  whole  thing 
has  to  be  built  over  every  two  hundred  years."  She 
spoke  as  if  a  castle  owner  hardly  had  time  to  turn 
around  before  he  had  to  begin  repairing  his  little  nest. 


LESLIE  AND  A  REAL  SCHLOSS       213 

"Have  you  had  tea?"  asked  the  Graf,  planting 
himself  before  the  open  fire  and  regarding  the  guest 
pleasantly. 

"Oh,  yes,  long  ago,"  said  Leslie. 

"Then  you  must  sit  here  and  get  warm  while  I  tell 
you  the  news,"  said  the  Grafin.  "Such  shocking 
news,"  she  added,  smiling  pleasantly. 

"Oh,  horrible!"  said  the  Graf,  "we're  quite  used 
up." 

"Dear  me,"  said  Leslie,  pulling  off  her  gloves  and 
piling  her  wraps  into  the  arms  of  one  of  the  footmen, 
who  seemed  to  appear  automatically  whenever  de- 
sired. "  Your  husband  did  n't  make  me  think  that  it 
was  as  bad  as  that." 

"It 's  nothing  to  worry  you,"  said  the  Grafin;  "it 
only  worries  us.  It 's  a  wedding." 

"A  wedding!"  said  Leslie,  much  startled. 

The  Grafin  nodded.  "Our  niece,"  she  said.  "You 
see,  the  poor  girl  has  no  mother,  and  she  has  written 
and  asked  if  she  can  be  married  here.  What  could  we 
say?" 

"  Donnerwetter,  we  could  have  said  no,"  said  the 
Graf;  "that's  what  I  should  have  said.  But  the 
difficulty  was  that  we  'd  always  promised  her  her 
wedding.  You  see ! " 


214  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"  You  see  that  placed  us  where  we  could  n't  very 
well  get  out  of  it,"  said  the  Grafin;  "now,  could  we?" 

"We  could  have  gone  to  Wiesbaden,"  said  the  Graf. 

"Dear  George,"  said  his  wife,  "you  know  that  you 
would  not  have  done  that  any  more  than  I  would." 
Then  she  turned  to  Leslie.  "  It  was  really  too  terrible 
to  think  of  at  first.  I  nearly  went  mad.  We  did  not 
know  that  she  was  even  betrothed.  I  had  been  to 
see  my  cousin  and  I  drove  home  quite  happy  and  came 
in,  and  there  sat  my  Mann  with  the  letter.  As  soon 
as  I  saw  him  I  cried,  '  Um  Gottes  witten,  George,  what 
is  it?'  and  all  he  said  was,  'Read.'  I  was  so  fright- 
ened I  could  hardly  cross  the  room.  I  said,  '  Oh,  tell 
me,  is  it  our  boy  ? '  but  all  he  said  was, '  Read ! '  Then 
I  read  —  and  I  sank  down  on  that  seat  over  there  — 
and  what  a  terrible  evening  we  spent ! " 

"Horrible,"  said  the  Graf,  with  feeling;  "horrible !" 

"But  when  is  it  to  be?"  asked  Leslie. 

"Next  week,"  said  the  Graf;  "next  week!  In  this 
snow !  This  whole  schloss  to  heat !" 

"Twenty  people  for  the  night,  my  dear,"  said  the 
Grafin;  "twenty  people  for  the  night,  and  every  one 
with  a  valet  or  afemme  de  chambre,  and  the  old  prince 
with  his  physician,  and  the  old  duchess  with  her 
companion.  Ach,Gott!" 


LESLIE  AND  A  REAL  SCHLOSS       215 

"Perhaps  I  'd  better  go  on  to-morrow,"  said  Leslie, 
much  appalled  at  the  impending  calamity. 

"No,  no,  my  dear,  you  can't  do  that.  We  're  en- 
tertaining for  you.  We  've  got  a  great  dinner  to- 
morrow, and  the  Freifrau  von  Diebeshaufen  has  asked 
you  there  Thursday.  And,  besides,  this  is  all  a  secret ; 
no  one  knows  except  just  our  family." 

"No  one  must  know,"  said  the  Graf;  "it 's  a  very 
great  secret." 

"We  only  tell  you  so  that  you  will  understand," 
said  the  Grafin;  "you  must  say  nothing." 

Leslie  promised  to  say  nothing. 

"You  see,  it 's  like  this,"  said  the  Graf:  "they  live 
in  Pomerania,  and  the  marriage  can't  be  there  because 
then  the  old  prince  and  the  old  duchess  could  n't  be 
present.  And  they  want  to  be  present." 

"You  see,  the  old  duchess  is  her  great-aunt,"  said 
the  Grafin,  "not  on  the  side  of  the  Von  dem  Blumen, 
but  because  Ragnhild's  mother  was  a  Von  Glockchen. 
As  for  the  old  prince,  of  course  that 's  through  the 
Beusts.  I  hope  I  make  it  clear?" 

"Oh,  perfectly,"  said  Leslie. 

"His  mother  was  a  Von  Knockenbaun,"  put  in  the 
Graf;  "you  forgot  that,  Liebste." 

"It's  all  so  dreadful/'   said  the  Grafin.     "Only 


216  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

fancy,  we  must  have  this  whole  thing  done  in  flowers 
from  top  to  bottom,  and  a  carpet  from  here  to  the 
church.  Heaven  only  knows  where  I  can  borrow 
that  carpet." 

"You  '11  be  sorry  you  sold  all  those  old  beds  out  of 
the  garret  now,"  observed  the  Graf. 

"I'll  be  sorrier  I  sold  those  old  suits  of  yours," 
answered  his  wife  sadly ;  "they  'd  have  done  for  extra 
footmen.  But  the  garret  was  so  full  of  old  stuff.  It 
had  n't  been  thoroughly  cleared  out  since  Wallenstein 
sacked  the  place." 

"You  must  see  the  Wallenstein  Saal,"  said  the 
Graf.  "He  slept  there  the  night  after  his  arrival." 

"  I  do  wonder  how  we  '11  ever  make  the  old  duchess 
comfortable,"  sighed  the  Grafin;  "she's  always  so 
uncomfortable.  I  wish  she  'd  refuse  to  come." 

"Think  of  sleeping  twenty  people!"  said  Leslie, 
with  her  perpetual  American  wonder. 

"Oh,  we  take  care  of  seventy-five  people  in  the 
summer  often  and  often  quite  easily,"  said  the  Grafin : 
"but  the  difficulty  at  this  time  of  year  is  heating  the 
rooms.  We  '11  have  to  have  one  man  to  do  nothing 
but  tend  the  fires.  Just  go  from  hall  to  hall  and  put 
on  coals,  you  know." 

Leslie  looked  sympathetic. 


LESLIE  AND  A  REAL  SCHLOSS       217 

"  It 's  the  strange  servants  that  are  the  worst,"  said 
the  Graf;  "they  make  all  the  trouble." 

"  Selbstverstandlich,"  said  his  wife,  with  deep  mean- 
ing, "and  they  never  help  one  bit." 

"Oh,  I  'm  so  sorry  for  you !"  Leslie  exclaimed. 

"No,  no,"  said  the  Grafin,  "you  mustn't  feel  that 
way,  for  we  shall  manage  very  well:  we  always  do. 
And  I  don't  mean  to  spoil  your  visit  by  talking  of  our 
little  personal  troubles,  anyway.  Tell  us  all  about 
England,  and  whether  you  have  lost  your  heart  to 
an  Englishman  or  not." 

"No,  I  have  n't,"  said  Leslie,  shaking  her  head. 

"That 's  so  nice,"  said  the  Grafin;  "perhaps  you  '11 
marry  a  German  and  live  in  this  country.  Don't  you 
think  that  she  would  make  a  good  German  haus- 
frau?"  she  asked  the  Graf,  smiling. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  Graf,  a  little  dubiously. 
"She  wouldn't  be  able  to  run  around  the  world  as 
she  does  now  if  she  were  to  marry  a  German,  you 
know." 

"I  shouldn't  want  to  run  around  as  I  do  now," 
said  Leslie;  "if  I  had  a  nice  schloss  I  should  want  to 
stay  in  it." 

"Oh,  my  dear,  you  don't  know  what  you  're  talk- 
ing L'bout,"  said  the  Grafin,  with  a  sad  intonation. 


218  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"There  's  the  whole  chimney  in  the  chapel  falling  in. 
The  chapel  was  done  before  the  Hundred  Years  War, 
and  when  that  end  was  blown  up  it  stood,  so  they 
just  rebuilt  the  rest  around  it,  and  now  it 's  all  crum- 
bling to  bits." 

"It'll  fall  in  on  the  wine-cellar  some  day  soon," 
said  the  Graf  cheerfully. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Leslie  resolutely,  "I  should 
like  even  a  caving-in  schloss,  even  if  it  caved  in  right 
on  top  of  me." 

"That  would  be  likely  enough  to  happen,"  said 
the  Grafin  pleasantly.  "  Now  I  must  take  you  to  your 
room  and  let  you  get  a  bit  of  rest  before  supper.  We 
are  old-fashioned  and  have  supper  at  night." 

Thereupon  Leslie  was  led  away  to  her  own  quarters. 


CHAPTER  XX 

LESLIE  AND  A   LIVE  HUSSAR 

THE  footman  was  spreading  the  tea-table  in  the 
great  bow-window,  and  the  family  were  all  gathered 
about  it.  The  family  were  the  Graf,  the  Grafin,  and 
Leslie. 

Just  then  there  was  the  sound  of  hoofs  below,  and 
the  Graf  looked  out  of  the  window  and  exclaimed, 
"Ah,  there  's  Von  Dienstag !  Just  in  time  for  tea." 

Baron  von  Dienstag  was  an  officer  of  the  Hussars, 
and  had  ridden  from  heaven  knows  where  on  horse- 
back with  a  Hussar  private  to  hold  his  horse.  Booted 
and  spurred,  he  was  in  upon  them  in  a  minute,  his 
face  all  abeam  with  a  welcome  reflected  from  that  of 
his  friends.  He  was  presented  to  Leslie  and  gave 
her  a  beautiful  silver-braided  bow. 

They  all  drew  up  around  the  tea-table  at  once,  and 
the  " little  Dienstag,"  as  the  six-feet-two  of  Hussar 
pleasantly  dubbed  himself,  sat  next  to  the  guest. 

"But  you  mustn't  make  love  to  her,"  said  the 


220  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Grafin,  "  because  she  wants  a  schloss  and  you  have  no 
schloss." 

"  But  I  can  buy  a  schloss,"  expostulated  the  Hussar, 
as  if  no  such  trifle  as  a  scliloss  present  or  absent 
should  ever  prevent  his  making  love.  "You  are  not 
going  to  break  me  of  any  bad  habits,  you  know." 

"Nothing  will  ever  break  you  of  any  bad  habits,  I 
fancy,"  said  the  Graf. 

At  this  the  little  Dienstag  drew  one  corner  of  his 
mouth  into  a  meaning  smile  and  looked  at  Leslie. 

"  Have  you  heard  about  what 's  to  happen  to  us 
next  week?"  asked  the  Grafin. 

"Yes,  I  had  a  letter  from  Ludwig.  So  it 's  to  be 
here." 

"You  mustn't  tell  any  one;  it's  a  secret,  you 
know,"  said  the  Grafin. 

"Oh,  I  won't  tell  any  one.  I  can  keep  a  secret. 
I  'm  keeping  all  my  own." 

"Yes,  but  think  of  having  to  heat  this  castle,"  said 
the  Graf  earnestly.  "Twenty  people  coming." 

"Why  don't  you  get  Liebesthal  to  put  up  some  of 
the  men?" 

"  Liebesthal ! "  said  the  Grafin  with  scorn.  "  Liebes- 
thal would  n't  stable  a  cat  for  a  friend ;  you  know 
that." 


LESLIE  AND  A  LIVE  HUSSAR          221 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  that,"  said  the  Hussar,  who  was 
clearly  of  a  nature  that  fell  in  easily  with  the  views 
of  his  friends. 

"  If  I  were  a  cat,  I  would  n't  put  up  with  Liebes- 
thal,"  said  the  Graf.  "  Such  a  brute !  We  were  shoot- 
ing together  all  day  Monday,  —  such  a  shot,  —  and 
then  he  came  home  with  me  to  dinner." 

"And  found  fault  with  the  dinner,"  said  the 
Grafin.  "God  pity  his  wife;  that  Js  all  I  can  say." 

"He'll  never  have  a  wife,"  said  Von  Dienstag, 
eating,  drinking,  and  talking  without  ever  taking  his 
eyes  off  Leslie.  "He  doesn't  mean  to  marry.  He 
let 's  other  men  do  the  marrying,  and  then  he  makes 
love  to  their  wives." 

"Like  yourself?"  suggested  the  Graf .  At  that  the 
little  Dienstag  smiled  his  curious  smile  again. 

"No,  but  really  this  wedding  is  no  easy  trick,"  said 
the  Graf.  "You  know  the  old  prince  is  coming." 

"Ludwig  wrote  me  both  the  old  princes  were 
coming,"  said  the  Hussar.  "Haven't  they  told 
you?" 

"Donnerwetter,  no!''  said  the  Graf,  looking  quite 
sober.  "Are  you  sure?  That  would  mean  three 
more  rooms?"  he  said  to  his  wife. 

"Five,"  said  Dienstag;  "LiH  will  come,  too." 


222  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Not  if  the  Mittwochs  are  here,"  said  the  Grafin; 
"you  forgot  the  Freitag  story." 

"Her  mother  was  a  Von  Kleberich,"  said  the  Graf. 
"Dear  me,  I  hope  General  von  Kleberich  won't  hear 
of  our  having  the  prince  here." 

"His  mother  was  a  Sonnabend,  you  see,"  said  the 
Grafin  to  Leslie.  "  One  has  to  be  so  careful  about  that 
kind  of  thing  with  us." 

"And  I  heard  that  Weissenthurm  was  coming, 
too,"  said  the  Hussar. 

"Oh,  no!"  cried  the  Grafin.  "Whoever  told  you 
that?" 

"I  must  n't  tell,  because  it  is  a  lady." 

"We  '11  have  to  heat  the  west  wing,  then." 

"I  don't  believe  Weissenthurm  would  come  here," 
said  the  Graf.  "You  know  why  not?" 

"He's  never  minded  that.  Her  mother  was  a 
Hohenthal,  you  know,"  said  Dienstag;  "that  al- 
tered it  all." 

"You  see  Graf  Weissenthurm  is  Ragnhild's  uncle," 
explained  the  Grafin  to  Leslie,  "not  on  our  side,  of 
course;  her  grandmother  was  a  Weissenthurm." 

"But  his  mother  was  a  Wartegg,"  interpreted  the 
count;  "that 's  how  they  come  to  own  Schwarzhut." 

"But  Schwarzhut  came  through  the  Sussebienes, 


LESLIE  AND  A  LIVE  HUSSAR         223 

the  father's  mother,  of  course/'  said  the  Grafin.  "I 
do  hope  it 's  all  plain  to  you?"  she  added  to  Leslie. 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  said  Leslie,  much  bewildered, 
but  smiling. 

"Are  you  going  to  drive  over  alone  to-night,  or  are 
you  going  to  bring  the  Von  Mittwochs?"  asked  the 
Grafin  of  the  baron  now. 

"I  'm  not  coming  with  them,"  said  Dienstag  with 
much  firmness;  "I 'm  coming  alone." 

"Can't  you  bring  me  some  pillows,  then?"  asked 
the  Grafin.  "I  shall  want  ever  so  many  extra  pillows. 
Bring  me  over  twelve,  if  you  can." 

"Well,  if  I  can  remember  to  have  them  put  in  the 
carriage,"  said  the  Hussar  obligingly;  "but  don't 
count  on  them." 

"  If  both  the  princes  come,  I  shall  want  every  pillow 
and  blanket  you've  got,"  said  the  Grafin.  "Do 
have  them  gotten  ready;  that 's  a  good  soul." 

"I  will,"  said  the  Hussar.  "I'll  keep  Witzleben 
over  night,  too,  if  you  like." 

"Witzleben!  Is  Witzleben  coming?"  cried  the 
Graf  and  the  Grafin  together. 

"Why,  of  course;  didn't  you  know  that?" 

"No;  who  told  you?" 

"  He  wrote  me.    Of  course  he  'd  be  coming.    His 


224  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

father  's  Baron  Stein's  uncle.  He  'd  be  at  the  wed- 
ding if  there  was  any  one  at  all  there." 

"My  goodness  me!"  said  the  Grafin  in  despair. 
"If  Witzleben  is  coming,  the  whole  family  in  that 
direction  must  be  coming." 

"You  see  Witzleben's  mother  was  an  Abend,"  said 
the  Graf.  Leslie  rose  suddenly  and  fled  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

LESLIE  DINES 

LESLIE,  dressing  for  dinner,  soon  discovered  by  the 
resonance  that  shook  the  walls  that  her  room  was 
situated  in  the  clock-tower.  It  was  a  huge  apartment, 
with  an  artful  arrangement  of  rod  and  drapery  con- 
fining one  corner  to  the  purposes  of  a  dressing-room. 
She  could  look  out  of  one  window  over  the  park,  and 
she  could  look  out  of  another  down  into  a  great  court, 
stone-paved,  and  where  she  later  discovered  that 
some  one  was  always  drawing  water.  There  were  four 
closets  buried  in  her  walls,  and  a  stone  staircase  wind- 
ing up  to  darkness  just  to  the  left  of  the  chimney. 
It  was  a  delightful  room,  pleasantly  feudal  and  de- 
liciously  warm. 

"Not  much  like  Kenelm,"  she  reflected. 

Rose  had  everything  laid  out,  and  the  labor  of  a 
toilette  was  soon  finished.  Then  she  threw  an  opera- 
wrap  around  her  shoulders  and  went  with  the  maid 
through  several  unheated  halls  to  that  particular 


226  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

quarter  of  the  castle  where  the  evening's  entertain- 
ment was  to  be  held.  Arrived  at  her  destination,  Rose 
received  the  opera-wrap  back  to  carry  upstairs,  and 
her  mistress  entered  a  long  suite  of  huge,  irregularly 
shaped  rooms,  brilliantly  lighted,  hi  the  end  one  of 
which  the  Graf,  with  all  his  orders  on,  was  looking 
over  the  pages  of  his  Hunt  Book.  The  Graf  was 
greatly  pleased  to  see  Leslie  down  so  promptly,  and 
at  once  showed  her  to  a  chair  beside  his  and  ex- 
hibited the  written  proof  of  how  many  deer,  hare, 
rabbits,  and  pheasants  he  had  killed  each  year  since 
he  began  to  shoot  a  gun.  She  was  much  interested; 
indeed,  she  was  so  much  interested  that  when  they 
finished  the  Hunt  Book  he  took  her  through  several 
more  brilliantly  lighted  rooms  to  where  he  had  a  small 
private  menagerie  of  stuffed  animals,  the  boxes  piled 
one  on  another  as  if  the  circus  were  getting  ready  to 
move  on.  Here  he  took  the  greatest  possible  pleasure 
in  pointing  out  which  were  weasels  and  which  were 
wild-cats,  explaining  naively  the  meanwhile  that  all 
the  live  animals  had  been  infinitely  bigger  than  their 
skins.  This  Germanized  version  of  the  size  of  the 
fisher's  fish  delighted  her  very  soul.  She  did  wish  that 
Hugo  had  been  by  to  hear  it,  for  Hugo  had  a  strong 
sense  of  humor. 


LESLIE  DINES  227 

When  they  had  looked  long  and  thoroughly  upon  all 
the  well-preserved  game  they  came  back  to  the  es- 
tablished rendezvous  and  found  the  Grafin  seated  by 
the  fire.  It  was  five  minutes  before  the  hour  set  for 
people  to  come,  and  a  stillness  like  death  reigned 
over  Morgenlicht.  The  Grafin  seemed  slightly  de- 
pressed; it  was  evidently  very  difficult  to  rise  above 
the  opening  of  the  west  wing. 

"  I  do  hope  that  I  shall  not  make  any  social  blunders 
to-night,"  said  Leslie.  "The  hardest  thing  about 
going  from  country  to  country  is  the  mastering  of  the 
etiquette." 

"Oh,  you  needn't  trouble  about  that,"  said  the 
Grafin  kindly.  "Only  don't  say  'Frau  Baronin' ;  say 
1  Gnadige  Frau,'  or  else  say  nothing  at  all." 

"I  thought  only  servants  or  people  asking  if  one 
was  at  home  said  'Gnadige  Frau,'"  said  Leslie. 

"Say  nothing  at  all,  that's  simplest,"  said  the 
Graf. 

"Dear  Mann,"  said  his  wife,  "did  you  telephone 
about  the  opening  of  the  west  whig  to-morrow?" 

"  Yes,  they  will  come." 

The  Grafin  sighed  heavily.  "And  never  courtesy 
except  to  a  princess,"  she  said,  turning  to  Leslie; 
"and  there'll  be  no  princess  here  to-night,  so  you 


228  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

won't  courtesy  at  all.  And  remember  not  to  trust 
Liebesthal,  or  tell  him  anything  you  don't  want 
known.  He  's  such  a  tattletale,  it  makes  me  quite 
ill  to  think  that  he  knows  our  secret." 

"And  don't  think  he  's  in  love  with  you  if  he  says 
so,"  said  the  Graf,  "because  he  won't  be." 

"It 's  just  that  he  likes  to  say  so  to  see  if  you  '11 
believe  it,"  explained  the  Grafin;  "Von  Dienstag  is 
just  the  same." 

"They  all  are,"  said  the  Graf. 

Then  a  thunderous  sound  of  carriages  burst  out 
suddenly  below. 

"Oh,  who  am  I  to  sit  by?"  Leslie  exclaimed 
suddenly. 

"I've  given  you  Liebesthal  himself,"  said  the 
Grafin,  "because  if  you  could  manage  to  marry  him 
that  castle  is  a  dream." 

"There  are  Roman  bricks  in  the  foundation  work," 
said  the  Graf  rising;  "and  he  's  rich,  too,"  he  added. 

"And  the  sweetest  disposition,"  said  the  Grafin, 
also  rising;  "he  wouldn't  hurt  a  fly.  And  he's  off 
shooting  most  of  the  time,  so  he  'd  be  out  of  your  way  ; 
and  then  there  's  all  the  mother's  property  for  the 
oldest  boy." 

"His  mother  was  a  Von  Pfeffer  um  Salz,"  inter- 


LESLIE  DINES  229 

polated  the  Graf.  He  and  his  wife  were  now  moving 
towards  the  door. 

"And  her  mother  was  a  born  Freiin  Brotchen," 
said  the  Grafin.  "  Oh,  there  's  no  lack  of  blood  in 
Liebesthal." 

"Only  you  never  can  trust  him/'  said  the  Graf,  over 
his  shoulder.  "  You  must  n't  think  if  he  asks  you  to 
marry  him,  not  to-night  but  any  time,  that  he  means 
it,  you  know." 

"Oh,  dear  no,"  said  the  Grafin;  "she  never  would 
be  so  foolish  as  that." 

The  dinner-party  burst  in  upon  them  just  then,  and 
between  silver  braid  and  top-boots  with  spurs  it  was 
such  a  brilliant  sight  from  the  first  minute  that 
Leslie  felt  herself  taken  into  the  heart  of  a  comic 
opera  and  absolutely  dazzled  out  of  her  senses.  She 
never  had  been  so  close  to  so  many  Hussars  at  once  in 
all  her  life.  They  were  so  very  charming,  too,  and  as 
pleasant  to  talk  to  as  they  were  beautiful  to  look  at. 
One  lived  in  a  monocle  and  they  all  had  castles  and 
mothers  and  huge  estates  in  Pomerania  or  Silesia. 
The  ladies  present  looked  rather  faded  in  comparison. 
Most  of  them  resembled  old  and  conscientiously  done 
family  portraits,  and  there  were  two  or  three  young 
girls  who  had  n't  had  their  portraits  done  yet  and  so 


230  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

had  n't  quite  settled  what  to  look  like.  Graf  Liebes- 
thal  proved  to  be  an  eagleish  gentleman  with  a  gor- 
geous moustache  and  a  neat  blue  band  fitting  just 
beneath  his  collar,  to  which  was  hung  a  huge  order. 
Leslie  admired  him  very  much,  but  their  conversation 
was  painfully  perfunctory  at  table,  the  Grafin  having 
given  her  dreaded  neighbor  on  his  other  side  a  lady 
in  whom  he  was  apparently  deeply  interested,  —  a 
fact  which  his  legitimate  lady  soon  found  out.  There 
was  nothing  left  for  her  to  do  but  to  imitate  the  happy 
Graf  and  take  what  didn't  belong  to  her,  too,  for 
Leslie  was  never  one  of  those  who  go  quietly  and 
cheerfully  manless.  The  man  on  her  other  side  looked 
to  be  not  so  bad,  and  after  a  second  searching  glance 
at  him  she  took  up  his  name  card  and  introduced  him 
properly  to  herself. 

"Ah,  you  're  an  Oberregierungsrat,  I  see,"  she 
said,  as  a  safe  opening  play.  "Do  tell  me  what  you 
do?" 

"I  work,"  said  the  Oberregierungsrat  with  an 
alacrity  which  proved  that  he  did  n't  care  a  bit  about 
the  lady  they  had  given  him.  "I  work  from  nine  to 
ten  daily." 

"From  nine  to  ten!  What  a  nice,  easy  post," 
paid  Leslie;  "and  what  do  you  do  in  the  afternoon?" 


LESLIE  DINES  231 

"You  didn't  understand,"  said  the  0 srat. 

"I  said  that  I  worked  from  nine  to  ten  hours  daily." 

"Oh,  dear,"  said  Leslie;  "really?  But  do  tell  me, 
as  long  as  you  're  of  so  obliging  a  disposition,  what  is 
an  assessor  and  what  does  he  do?  I  Ve  always  been 
so  curious  about  what  an  assessor  might  be.  I  Ve 
never  been  able  to  find  out." 

"He  works  for  an  Oberregierungsrat,"  said  the 

0 srat;  "the  assessor  writes,  and  then  I  read  it 

over  and  sign  it."  He  took  a  glass  of  wine. 

"How  obliging  of  you,"  said  Leslie,  referring,  of 
course,  to  his  treatment  of  the  assessor. 

She  had  to  pause  then  and  lean  out  of  the  way  while 

a  footman  told  the  0 srat  what  he  was  going  to  pour 

into  another  of  his  glasses  and  then  poured  it  in. 

"And  a  Geheimrat,"  she  said  when  she  was  again 
perpendicular,  "what  does  he  do?" 

The  0 srat  was  just  about  to  drink  out  of  his 

last-filled  glass.  "A  Geheimrat  does  n't  do  anything," 
he  said;  "he  's  done  doing."  And  then  he  drank. 

Leslie  was  greatly  amused.  She  did  n't  mind  a  bit 
getting  out  of  the  way  every  other  minute  for  the  fill- 
ing or  refilling  of  his  glasses.  In  the  end  they  became 
such  fast  friends  that  the  Graf  Liebesthal's  behavior 
in  appropriating  the  wrong  lady  upset  the  whole  ar- 


232  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

rangement  of  the  table,  and  a  very  inoffensive  gentle- 
man and  a  lady  who  was  making  a  souvenir  collection 
of  switches,  as  her  hair  traveled  down  the  vale  of 
life's  changes,  were  swamped  high  and  dry. 

The  general  tone  of  the  conversation  was  animated 
but  incomprehensible  to  the  American,  as  it  went 
forward  very  rapidly  and  all  at  the  same  time. 

The  wedding-to-be  was  the  subject  that  came  upper- 
most oftenest  in  the  metee.  From  time  to  time  Leslie 
could  just  catch  the  words:  "It 's  all  a  secret,"  and 
"  His  mother  was  a  Von  —  "  but  as  a  general  rule 
she  caught  nothing. 

When  dinner  was  over  they  walked  through  a  chain 
of  drawing-rooms  to  two  or  three  where  coffee, 
liqueurs,  and  cigarettes  were  served.  Leslie  sat  down 
on  a  low  divan  and  drew  a  long  breath ;  she  felt  quite 
exhausted  from  eating. 

The  little  Dienstag  came  up  and  sat  down  beside 
her,  his  booted  and  spurred  legs  extending  far  for- 
ward. She  did  wonder  what  he  'd  have  looked  like 
if  his  hair  had  been  a  quarter  of  an  inch  long ;  there 
seems  to  be  a  general  spite  against  numbering  any  hairs 
at  all  on  one  's  head  just  now  among  German  men. 

"Do  you  shave  your  head,  too,  every  evening?" 
she  inquired;  "what  makes  you  do  it?" 


LESLIE  DINES  233 

"But  I  don't,"  said  the  Hussar  gravely;  he  looked 
at  his  shining  boots  for  a  long  three  seconds  and  then 
said:  "Don't  ask  me  any  more  questions,  please.  I 
have  n't  had  too  much  to  drink,  but  I  cannot  answei 
difficult  questions  just  now." 

Leslie  looked  sharply  at  him.  He  continued  to  look 
at  his  boots.  They  were  beautiful  boots. 

"Do  you  wear  them  to  balls?"  she  asked. 

Dienstag  examined  them  minutely  in  turn. 
"Always,"  he  said  briefly,  after  a  while. 

"I  should  think  that  you  'd  catch  the  spurs  in 
ladies'  dresses." 

He  raised  his  head  at  that  and  looked  at  her  so 
long  and  steadily  that  she  was  almost  disconcerted. 
"I  do/' he  said  finally. 

"Must  you  wear  them?"  she  asked. 

He  waited  so  long  that  time  that  she  really  thought 
that  he  was  not  going  to  answer  at  all,  and  then  he 
said,  "I  must." 

"Does  n't  all  that  silver  braid  tarnish  very  easily? " 
she  said  then,  beginning  to  fear  that  he  was  —  that 
he  was  — 

He  looked  at  all  of  his  silver  braid  that  lay  within 
easy  range.  "It  does,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  dear,"  she  exclaimed,  now  quite  positive  that 


234  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

he  was  —  that  he  was  —  "I  think  that  you  'd  better 
get  some  coffee  or  go  out  and  walk  about  a  bit." 

He  looked  at  her  again.  "You  think  I  've  had  too 
much  to  drink,"  he  said  with  a  weary,  misjudged  air, 
"and  I  have." 

Leslie  wanted  to  laugh  at  the  finale.  "Do  go  and 
get  some  coffee,"  she  urged. 

He  paid  no  attention  whatever. 

"It  would  help  your  head,"  she  suggested. 

He  felt  around  until  he  touched  his  forehead  and 
then  passed  his  hand  wearily  across  it. 

"  I  speak  English,"  he  said,  with  a  thoughtful  air. 

"Do  you,  indeed?"  she  replied. 

"Yes.    'Kiss  me  quick.'" 

She  started  up,  but  stopped  short  on  discovering 
that  he  had  his  foot  on  her  dress. 

"It's  the  name  of  one  of  my  horses,"  he  said; 
"it 's  all  the  English  I  know." 

She  sat  quiet  now.    She  was  almost  hysterical. 

"Do  try  coffee,"  she  urged  presently,  in  a  faint 
voice. 

He  rose  and  stood  looking  down  on  her. 

"Do  get  outdoors,"  she  pleaded  then,  looking  up  at 
him. 

"  This  is  nothing,"  he  said,  smiling  in  kindly  reassur- 


LESLIE  DINES  235 

ance;  "when  I  really  have  too  much,  four  men  can't 
hold  me.  It  takes  the  regiment  to  get  me  to  bed." 

He  walked  away,  and  Liebesthal,  who  was  human 
enough  and  masculine  enough  to  feel  really  attracted 
to  her  now  that  he  had  n't  the  duty  of  entertaining 
her  assigned  to  him,  came  and  took  his  place  at  once. 

"  The  schloss  will  look  very  differently  a  week  from 
now,"  he  said,  smiling  kindly. 

"Yes?"  she  answered  interrogatively;  "the 
wedding?" 

"No,  the  wedding  will  be  over.    All  will  be  quiet." 

"But  the  wedding  is  to  be  a  week  from  to-night." 

"They  think  so,"  said  Liebesthal,  "but  it  ;s  going 
to  be  on  Monday.  Don't  tell  them;  it 's  a  secret." 

"A  secret!"  she  repeated.  "But  they  ought  to 
know  that  secret,  don't  you  think?" 

"I  don't  know  why." 

"But  it 's  to  be  in  their  house." 

"Oh,  I  see  what  you  mean  now,"  said  the  Graf, 
"you  think  they  ought  to  know  because  they  're 
going  to  have  the  wedding." 

"Certainly." 

"  I  '11  tell  you  another  secret.  Fiirst  Stettin  is 
coming." 

"Who  is  he?"  Leslie  asked. 


236  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"He  's  the  head  of  the  family,  only  he  's  the  other 
branch.  They  separated  in  the  fifteenth  century.  Of 
course,  it 's  not  a  very  close  connection.  His  mother 
was  a  Von  Siege  und  Feige.  You  've  heard  of  her, 
of  course?" 

"No,"  said  Leslie. 

"Dear  me!  Well,  I  'm  sorry  I  can't  tell  you  the 
story." 

She  looked  at  him,  his  blue  throat-band,  his  cross, 
and  his  monocle.  "  You  're  such  a  strange  man,"  she 
said. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  a  very  strange  man,"  said  Liebesthal, 
tremendously  flattered;  "and  you  're  a  strange 
woman.  It 's  a  pleasant  feeling,  don't  you  think?" 

They  talked  then  of  many  things,  —  of  cabs,  of 
ships,  of  sealing-wax,  and  whether  pigs  have  wings. 
She  was  told  that  Morgenlicht  was  first  a  robber- 
castle,  then  a  Benedictine  monastery,  and  then  a 
residence. 

"And  your  schloss?"  she  asked. 

"You  must  come  and  see  it,"  he  invited  her.  She 
accepted  the  invitation  with  pleasure.  She  did  not 
find  him  any  of  the  things  which  she  had  been  warned 
against.  She  liked  him  very  much  indeed. 

Soon  after  the  clock  in  the  tower  pounded  eleven, 


LESLIE   DINES  237 

and  they  all  went,  all  except  Dienstag,  who  remained 
behind  and  broke  first  a  wine-glass  and  then  a  chair- 
arm  in  trying  to  adjust  himself  to  circumstances. 
Finally  he  got  settled  comfortably  in  a  deep  seat, 
and  they  sat  with  him  until  twelve,  when  the  Graf 
suggested  his  sleeping  there. 

"  Something  must  have  happened  to  your  carriage," 
said  the  very  sleepy  Grafin. 

"I  expect  that  I  did  n't  tell  it  to  come  back,"  said 
the  Hussar.  "  I  was  tired,  I  Ve  been  out  with  the  re- 
cruits all  day ;  I  did  n't  want  to  take  that  long  drive." 
He  closed  his  eyes  as  he  spoke.  "  Not  that  I  'm  sleepy, " 
he  explained,  with  every  appearance  of  lying. 

It  was  proposed  to  put  him  in  the  room  ready  for 
the  bridegroom.  That  tried  the  Grafin  very  much 
indeed. 

"I  think  he  ought  to  have  gone  home,"  she  said, 
when  their  guest  had  departed  in  charge  of  a  footman. 

"He  never  goes  home,"  said  the  Graf.  "You  re- 
member that  his  mother  was  a  Von  — 

Leslie  heard  no  more,  as  she  was  herself  on  the  way 
to  Sleepy-land.  Rose  tumbled  her  into  bed  in  short 
order. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

LESLIE   CHANGES  HER  PLANS 

THE  morning  after  the  dinner-party  the  Grafin  put 
on  a  fur-lined  coat  and  took  Leslie  over  the  schloss. 
When  they  returned  from  their  tour  it  was  almost 
luncheon  time,  and  they  found  the  Graf  in  a  state  of 
collapse.  Their  friend  and  neighbor  of  the  sweet  but 
untrustworthy  disposition  had  been  paying  him  a 
visit,  and  the  morning  mail  had  contained  advices  that 
not  only  the  old  princess  was  coming,  but  the  reigning 
prince  as  well. 

"Oh!  Oh!  "cried  the  Grafin  at  this.  "Oh!  Oh!" 
She  sounded  exactly  as  if  she  were  having  a  tooth 
drawn. 

"You  can  think  what  it  was  to  talk  to  Liebesthal 
with  that  in  my  pocket!"  said  the  Graf,  taking  out 
the  letter  and  showing  it  to  Leslie ;  "  and  he  stayed  so ! 
Heavens  knows  what  he  stayed  so  for.  He  never 
makes  long  calls." 

"This  means  having  the  chimney  opened  in  the 


LESLIE  CHANGES  HER  PLANS        239 

Saint  Elizabeth  Saal,  dear  George,"  said  the  Grafin, 
most  miserably.  "We  shall  have  to  give  the  prince 
that  room." 

"Oh,  no!"  the  Graf  exclaimed  with  heaviest  em- 
phasis. 

"Yes,  we  must.  And  we  can  give  his  gentlemen 
the  little  room  back  of  the  dressing-room  —  the  room 
Saint  Elizabeth's  husband  had.  We  must  have  that 
stove  repaired,  too." 

"We'll  have  to  borrow  Liebesthal's  coachmen 
and  both  carriages,"  said  the  Graf.  "I  told  him 
so  this  morning.  That  was  what  sent  him  home 
finally.  I  believe  he  would  have  stayed  to  luncheon 
otherwise." 

"I  hope  you  told  him  about  the  silver  and  glass  I 
want,"  said  the  Grafin.  "If  he  were  half-way  decent 
he  Jd  let  me  have  his  rugs,  or  he  'd  take  Witzleben 
there.  He  ought  to  take  him ;  his  mother  was  a  Von 
Schonstein." 

"  He  said  he  'd  have  his  housekeeper  pack  up  the 
things,  if  you  'd  make  a  list." 

"  I  '11  make  the  list,"  said  the  Grafin.  "  Dear,  dear, 
what  it  must  be  to  have  a  good  neighbor!"  She 
sighed  and  frowned.  "What  other  mail  was  there?" 
she  asked. 


240  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"A  letter  from  Freifrau  Marie:  she  wants  to  bring 
her  son." 

"Oh,  mein  Gott!"  cried  the  Grafin,  "she  can't !" 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  said  the  Graf ;  "  the  very  idea ! " 

Just  then  the  door  opened,  and  a  footman  announced 
Baron  Dienstag.  The  baron  followed  close  on  the 
announcement  and  apparently  had  slept  to  good 
purpose. 

"Are  you  going  now?"  the  Graf  asked  him. 

"No,  I'm  not  going  now.  I  want  lunch."  He 
took  the  Grafin's  hand. 

"What  do  you  think?"  the  Grafin  exclaimed,  while 
she  was  getting  her  hand  kissed,  "Marie  wants  to 
bring  her  son!  Did  you  ever?" 

Dienstag,  who  was  kissing  Leslie's  hand  by  this 
time,  gave  such  a  start  that  she  jumped  too.  "  Ach, 
nein!"  he  cried. 

"And  the  prince  has  written  that  he  will  come; 
it  Js  his  cousin,  you  know." 

Every  one  fell  into  chairs  as  if  successive  skies  kept 
crashing  from  above. 

"My  Bursche  has  just  brought  over  my  mail,"  said 
the  Hussar.  "  I  had  a  letter  from  General  Hausmeister, 
he  's  coming." 

There  was  another  sensation ! 


LESLIE  CHANGES  HER  PLANS        241 

"Well,  he  won't  stay  in  this  house!"  said  the  Graf 
angrily.  "You  can  write  and  tell  him  that." 

"Yes,  do  us  that  kindness,"  said  the  Grafin  eagerly. 
"Tell  him  to  stay  with  you  —  or  Liebesthal." 

"The  very  idea  of  his  coming!"  said  the  Graf,  in 
greatest  disgust.  "His  mother  was  a  Von  Kochin." 

"And  her  mother  was  a  Von  Brieftrager,"  said  the 
Grafin.  "Why,  they  were  nobody  before  the  Thirty 
Years'  War." 

"They  're  nobody  now,"  said  the  Graf. 

"And  Fritz  is  coming,"  said  Dienstag;  "I  had  a 
letter  from  him  too." 

Fresh  electric  shocks ! 

"Fritz  !    Why,  how  can  he?    That  means  — " 

Leslie  could  n't  at  all  understand  the  cause  of  this 
new  emotion. 

"Oh,  no !"  cried  the  Grafin;   "oh,  no !" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Hussar  with  gentle  force;  "yes !" 

"The  Kaiser's  cousin!"  exclaimed  the  Grafin  to 
Leslie.  "If  Fritz  is  coming,  it  means  the  Kaiser's 
cousin.  And  the  Kaiser's  cousin  means  un-nailing 
the  Friedrich  des  Grossen  Saal !" 

There  was  a  stupefied  pause  over  this  outlook. 

"Oh,  it's  an  outrage,"  said  the  Graf  at  last,  —  "an 
outrage :  the  Kaiser  himself  will  be  coming  next ! " 


242  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Yes,  you  ought  not  to  mind  anything  if  that 
does  n't  happen,"  said  Dienstag. 

Leslie  felt  most  helpless  and  in  the  way. 

They  had  lunch  soon,  with  sugar  in  the  soup,  and 
after  lunch  she  and  the  Grafin  went  to  drive. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  the  guest  to  the  hostess,  "I 
want  to  go.  You  have  your  hands  full,  and  I  can 
come  and  visit  here  any  other  time.  I  want  to  go 
now." 

"Yes,  but  you  can't,"  said  the  unhappy  relative 
and  friend  so  much  unwelcome  nobility;  "you  can't 
go  to  Berlin  alone." 

"No,"  said  Leslie,  "I  can't  go  to  Berlin,  but  what 
I  should  like  would  be  to  pass  three  or  four  days  in 
some  quiet  place  resting.  Don't  you  know  of  any 
nice  sleepy  little  town  between  here  and  Berlin?" 

The  Grafin  considered.  "I  know  the  very  place/' 
she  exclaimed,  all  of  a  sudden.  "You  could  go  to 
dear  Dr.  Bettschneider  in  Kopfdorf.  I  was  there  en 
pension  when  I  was  a  girl,  and  what  a  place  it  is  for 
resting!" 

"Is  it  on  the  way  to  Berlin?"  Leslie  asked. 

"On  the  main  line." 

"Oh,  how  nice!    And  they  take  boarders?" 

"They  take  every  one.    It 's  ideal.   You  'd  be  very 


LESLIE  CHANGES  HER  PLANS        243 

happy.  Everybody  who  is  anybody  has  been  there. 
The  Duchess  of  Button  and  the  Comte  de  Rompte 
and  every  one  else.  It 's  like  living  in  a  story." 

Leslie  did  not  stop  to  consider  whether  or  not  the 
Grafin's  desire  to  be  rid  of  her  colored  these  reminis- 
cences rose-color. 

"You  see  all  my  Berlin  dates  are  settled,"  she  said, 
"and  I  don't  want  to  get  there  before  time.  The 
Bettscheiders  of  Kopfdorf  sound  to  me  like  the  very 
thing." 

"Oh,  they  are  the  very  thing,"  said  the  Grafin 
with  decision.  "I  '11  write  by  to-night's  post  and 
tell  them  to  telegraph  so  you  can  go  to-morrow  at 
four  o'clock." 

Leslie  gave  a  slight  gasp,  but  accepted  her  prompt 
fate. 

When  they  got  back  Liebesthal  had  been  there 
again,  but  no  one  was  home  this  time. 

"Well,  bless  my  soul,"  said  the  Grafin,  "whatever 
does  he  mean  by  coming  twice  in  one  day.  He  never 
came  twice  in  one  week  before." 

The  Graf  looked  very  blank  indeed.  "Did  Graf 
Liebesthal  say  what  he  wanted,  Gustav?"  he  asked 
the  footman  who  had  just  entered  with  a  telegram. 

"No,  Herr  Graf,  the  Herr  Graf  asked  for  the  Herr 


244  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Graf,  and  when  I  said  that  the  Hen  Graf  was  out,  the 
Herr  Graf  went  on." 

"Very  odd,"  said  the  Grafin.  "But  open  the  tele- 
gram, George,  dear.  I  feel  sure  that  it  is  bad  news." 

It  proved  to  be  the  communicating  of  the  fact  that 
the  marriage  would  take  place  sooner  than  the  first 
date. 

"Well,  that  is  better  than  if  the  Kaiser's  cousin 
was  coming,"  said  the  Grafin,  looking  mournfully  out 
over  her  husband's  ancestral  acres. 

"She  is  going  to-morrow,"  said  the  Grafin  next, 
referring  to  Leslie. 

"Going  to-morrow!"  said  the  Graf.  He  evidently 
tried  to  sound  distressed. 

"Yes;  toKopfdorf." 

"ToKopfdorf!" 

"Yes." 

"To  the  Bettschneiders?" 

"Yes." 

The  Graf  appeared  astonished. 

"But  you  '11  never  be  able  to  take  your  maid  there," 
said  the  Grafin  with  sudden  afterthought;  "they'd 
never  allow  that." 

"I'll  leave  you  Rose  to  help  here,  if  you  like?" 
Leslie  suggested  readily. 


LESLIE  CHANGES  HER  PLANS        245 

"Oh,  that  would  be  too  delightful!"  said  the 
Grafin;  "Rose  is  so  good." 

"How  long  is  she  going  to  stay  there?"  inquired 
the  Graf,  referring  to  the  mistress,  not  the  maid. 

"As  long  as  she  was  going  to  stay  here,"  said  the 
Grafin;  "it 's  so  kind  of  her  to  go,  I  think." 

They  had  coffee  and  tea  and  chocolate  later,  only 
nobody  took  coffee  or  chocolate. 

"We  're  very  English,"  said  the  Grafin,  "we  always 
take  tea.  Dear  me,  to  think  of  that  fellow's  staying 
all  night  and  using  the  one  room  that  I  had  gotten  in 
order." 

"Tell  me  about  Kopfdorf?"  pleaded  Leslie. 

"It 's  delightfully  old  and  crooked,"  said  the  Graf. 

"Medieval,"  said  his  wife.  "Oh,  I  wish  Stettin 
was  n't  coming.  You  '11  have  all  the  German  ways 
you  like  at  Kopfdorf." 

"Kopfdorf  is  very  German,"  said  the  Graf;  "the 
Wall-Anlage  is  nice,  though;  you  '11  enjoy  going  back 
and  forth  over  the  wall." 

"Going  back  and  forth  over  the  wall!"  Leslie 
exclaimed. 

"It 's  a  promenade,"  said  the  Grafin;  "you  '11  love 
the  dear  old  town.  Every  one  who  goes  there  is  always 
loving  the  dear  old  town.  It 's  so  dear  and  so  old. 


246  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

I  wonder  if  we  can  get  the  chimney  to  draw  in  the 
Saint  Elizabeth  room !  "It  would  n't  when  Napoleon 
was  here,  you  know." 

"You  won't  have  but  a  Steppdecke,  you  know," 
said  the  Graf ;  "  you  '11  have  old  deutsche  Sitte  now  for 
sure." 

"Dear  George,"  said  his  wife,  "every  one  is  always 
writing  back  how  happy  they  have  been  there." 

"  I  'm  only  sorry  that  I  shan't  be  there  but  four  or 
five  days,"  said  Leslie. 

"  You  '11  like  the  dear  old  doctor ;  he  never  talks  and 
he  's  blind,  but  he  's  such  a  love,"  went  on  the  Grafin 
absent-mindedly. 

"How  can  he  treat  people?"  wondered  Leslie. 

"Oh,  he  doesn't  have  patients;  he's  a  doctor  of 
philosophy,"  said  the  Graf.  "  He  got  his  degree  before 
the  Franco-Prussian  War." 

"Such  a  romantic  house!"  said  the  Grafin.  "It 's 
really  idyllic.  And  they  have  a  Stutze." 

"What 's  a  Stutze  ?"  said  Leslie,  conscious  of  feeling 
about  in  her  German  vocabulary  for  a  racing-stable 
and  yet  certain  it  could  n't  be  that. 

"She  cooks  and  sits  with  the  family,"  said  the 
Grafin.  "  You  must  n't  ever  speak  to  her,  because  the 
doctor  does  n't  know  they  've  got  her.  He  won't 


LESLIE  CHANGES  HER  PLANS        247 

know  they  've  got  you,  either.  He  hates  having 
strangers  about,  so  they  never  have  told  him  that 
they  keep  a  pension.  Only  fancy,  all  these  years  and 
he  's  never  known  it." 

"  Mercy ! "  cried  Leslie,  "  won't  he  know  I  'm  there ! " 

"Certainly  not." 

Leslie  looked  distressed. 

"But  you  '11  like  them,"  said  the  Grafin  reassuringly. 
"  It  will  be  all  so  new  to  you.  You  '11  think  of  me 
while  you  wander  peacefully  about  Kopfdorf,  won't 
you?" 

Leslie  promised. 

"Oh,  yes,  it  will  all  be  new  to  you,"  said  the  Graf. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

LESLIE  GOES  TO  KOPFDORP 

LESLIE  and  one  small  trunk  set  forth  for  Kopfdorf 
the  next  morning  at  eleven.  She  hadn't  expected 
to  go  until  four,  but  the  opening  of  the  Kaiser  Fried- 
rich  Saal  brought  all  the  plaster  in  her  room  down,  so 
she  hastened  her  departure.  The  Graf  saw  her  off. 
They  had  a  very  pleasant  drive  to  the  station. 

"On  my  way  home  I  must  stop  and  see  Liebesthal. 
I  can't  think  what  can  be  the  matter  to  bring  him 
over  so  often.  He  was  there  again  this  morning." 

Leslie  looked  earnestly  out  at  the  Tannenwald 
through  which  they  were  passing,  considered  the  nice 
blue  throat-band  and  the  beautiful  Maltese  cross,  and 
—  and  continued  to  look  at  the  trees. 

The  Graf  installed  her  safely  in  her  coupe"  and 
stood  by  the  door  till  the  train  went.  One  resplend- 
ent officer  passed  and  saluted  and  the  Graf  said  after- 
wards: "Well,  you  are  fortunate  not  to  have  met 
him  or  he  would  have  spoiled  your  whole  journey. 


LESLIE  GOES  TO  KOPFDORF         249 

He  's  a  terrible  bore;  his  mother  was  a  Von  Sinnlos." 
Leslie  looked  after  the  beautiful  creature  and  felt, 
with  a  sigh,  that  men  never  would  learn  any  sense. 

After  a  while  the  guard  began  locking  the  train 
doors. 

"Good-by,"  said  the  Graf,  "you'll  like  Kopfdorf, 
and  my  wife  is  quite  right ;  it 's  just  the  place  to  rest. 
And  everybody  who  is  anybody  in  Europe  learned  to 
talk  German  at  the  Bettschneiders.  There  never  was 
such  a  place  for  learning  German.  People  think  it  will 
take  a  year,  and  they  learn  easily  in  three  months. 
Sometimes  in  two.  Auf  Wiedersehen  !  " 

The  trip  was  pleasant,  and  the  arrival  at  Kopfdorf 
quite  normale,  as  the  Germans  say.  Nobody  met  her, 
or  if  any  one  was  trying  to  meet  her  she  did  n't  know 
them,  so  she  took  a  Droschke  for  Herr  Dr.  Bett- 
sehneider's  at  once. 

The  ride  was  delightful,  Kopdorf  being  the  quaint- 
est of  old  towns,  —  one  of  those  places  where  the  tram 
appears  a  desecration.  They  drove  through  the  quiet, 
deserted  Domhof  and  down  a  little  stone-paved  twist 
of  a  street  that  ran  between  high,  high  walls,  and 
then  on  among  medieval  houses  with  twenty  varieties 
of  pitch  to  the  block,  and  so  came  at  last  to  Herr  Dr. 
Bettschneider's  haven  of  rest  and  German. 


250  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

The  number  was  seven,  but  they  stopped  at  num- 
ber fifteen.  Leslie  called  out  "  Seven "  in  her  most 
imperative  manner,  but  the  cabman  turned  around 
and  explained  to  her  that  no  one  ever  stopped  in  front 
of  number  seven,  as  Herr  Dr.  Bettschneider  did  n't 
like  the  noise.  So  Leslie  got  out  and  walked  back  to 
number  seven.  She  pulled  the  bell  —  a  stout  iron 
arrangement  which  seemed  to  hang  out  of  a  second- 
story  window  —  and  after  a  liberal  while  somebody 
opened  a  wee  latticed  shutter  and  looked  out  on  her 
with  one  eye.  Her  appearance  seemed  satisfactory, 
for  the  door  opened,  and  a  pleasant-faced  maid  let 
her  into  a  large,  cold,  pale-green  hall.  The  maid  then 
ran  out  to  get  the  trunk,  and  Leslie  waited  alone  in  the 
crisp  atmosphere.  Presently  the  maid  came  back  car- 
rying the  trunk  in  both  hands,  with  the  cabman  stroll- 
ing pleasantly  by  her  side.  Leslie  paid  the  cabman, 
while  the  maid  carried  the  trunk  on  upstairs.  Then 
the  cabman  went  away,  and  she  waited,  silently,  in 
the  cold  hall.  Her  sensations  as  she  waited  grew 
more  and  more  acute.  At  first  she  thought  that  it 
was  only  the  cold,  but  presently  she  became  aware 
that  they  were  not  wholly  physical.  More  subtle  and 
penetrating  than  any  shivers  were  the  sharp  little 
shafts  of  some  hitherto  unknown  emotion  which  filled 


LESLIE  GOES  TO  KOPFDORF  251 

her  with  discomfort.  Suddenly  she  knew  what  it  was 
—  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  was  filled  with  awe. 
She  had  known  love,  fear,  joy,  etc.,  but  it  was 
reserved  for  the  Bettschneider  house  to  teach  her  the 
meaning  of  awe.  She  trembled  as  she  realized.  She 
could  hear  her  trunk  bumping  against  unknown  ob- 
stacles above,  and  the  sound  distressed  her  unutter- 
ably. She  found  herself  looking  anxiously  down  to 
see  if  she  had  brought  any  dust  in  on  her  shoes.  She 
felt  almost  sure  that  she  was  making  trouble,  and  she 
trembled  more.  The  Graf  had  promised  her  a  new 
experience,  and  this  was  indeed  a  new  experience. 

Presently,  as  she  stood  there,  alone,  shaking,  and 
not  knowing  what  to  do  or  wrhere  to  go,  there  appeared 
at  the  top  of  the  very  steep,  straight  stair  a  little  figure 
in  gray  —  an  extremely  diminutive  lady.  She  was 
putting  on  her  gloves  hi  the  most  careful  and  precise 
manner  imaginable,  and  as  she  tripped  gently  down 
the  steps  she  did  n't  see  Leslie  at  all  at  first.  When 
she  did  see  her,  she  gave  a  start  only  limited  by  her 
size  and  strength,  but  quickly  rallied  and  managed  a 
courageous  smile. 

Leslie  was  only  too  pleased  to  smile  back. 

The  small  lady  approached  close  and,  "  You  're 
Mrs.  Revere?"  she  whispered. 


252  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Yes,"  Leslie  whispered  back. 

"  I  thought  so.  They  're  expecting  you.  Has  your 
trunk  come?" 

"The  maid  took  it  upstairs." 

"Oh,"  said  the  small  lady,  and  then  stood  still  and 
hesitated. 

"You  are  English,  are  you  not?"  Leslie  asked. 

"Yes,  I  am  English." 

"Do  you  live  here?" 

The  small  lady  nodded.  "But  we  must  n't  talk  in 
the  hall,"  she  said,  with  a  sudden  air  of  uneasiness. 
"  Fraulein  Kitzlcin  does  n't  like  it." 

"But  where  can  I  go?"  Leslie  asked. 

The  small  lady  looked  distressed.  "I  think  I  must 
take  you  to  my  room,"  she  said.  "I  don't  usually 
have  visitors  at  this  hour,  but  it  won't  matter  just  for 
once  —  I  don't  believe  —  not  if  we  're  quite  quiet." 

"But  you  were  just  going  out,"  Leslie  said. 

"That  doesn't  make  any  difference.  I  go  out  for 
my  milk.  You  see,  I  'm  not  very  strong,  and  I  have 
to  drink  a  glass  of  milk  at  four  o'clock  every  day,  so 
I  go  out  to  buy  it." 

Leslie  looked  down  upon  her  littleness,  —  she  was 
^.I'.-od  an  extremely  small  lady,  but  hospitably 
'  :.ed. 


LESLIE  GOES  TO  KOPFDORF         253 

"Do  come  up  to  my  room,"  she  urged;  "it 's  so 
cold  here,  and  I  need  n't  take  my  milk  till  half-past 
four.  I  '11  be  very  glad  to  put  it  off  a  bit.  I  do  hate 
milk." 

At  that  she  turned  around,  and  Leslie  followed  her 
up  the  steep,  straight  stair.  At  the  top  she  turned 
and  showed  an  anxious  little  face. 

"Don't  step  off  the  edge  of  the  carpet,"  she  whis- 
pered. "Fraulein  Kitzlein  would  see  the  mark  on  the 
polished  floor.  I  have  to  tell  all  my  company." 

Leslie  adhered  carefully  to  the  carpet  as  she 
turned. 

"And  don't  step  on  the  polished  floor  on  my  room, 
either,"  said  the  small  lady,  stopping  at  her  own  door 
to  give  the  second  caution.  "It 's  a  little  hard,  be- 
cause the  rugs  are  wide,  but  quite  far  apart,  but  if 
you  're  careful  you  can  step  it." 

They  went  into  her  room  at  that,  and  with  care 
Leslie  managed  to  step  it. 

"Do  sit  down,"  said  the  small  lady,  always  whis- 
pering, "not  on  the  sofa,  please,  because  Fraulein 
Kitzlein  brushed  it  only  this  morning  and  she  does  n't 
like  to  have  any  one  sit  on  the  sofa  when  it 's  just  been 
brushed;  but  you  may  sit  on  any  one  of  the  chairs. 
And  won't  you  have  just  a  drop  of  wine?"  She  was 


254  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

standing  right  in  front  of  Leslie,  and  her  tone  was 
full  of  eagerest  invitation. 

"Oh,  no,  thank  you,"  said  Leslie  quickly. 

"It 's  my  own,"  said  the  small  lady;  "you  need  n't 
mind  taking  it  at  all  —  I  buy  it  myself.  And  the 
wine-glasses  are  mine  too.  I  do  wish  that  the  sofa 
was  mine;  you  might  sit  on  it,  thei.  You  might  sit 
on  it  anyway  after  to-morrow ;  it 's  only  the  first  two 
days  after  it 's  brushed  that  I  may  n't  use  it." 

Leslie  began  to  perceive  how  terribly  anxious  the 
Grafin  must  have  been  to  get  rid  of  her.  She  sat  down 
on  a  chair  that  looked  as  if  others  had  previously 
dared  do  the  same  thing. 

"How  long  are  you  going  to  stay?"  asked  the  small 
lady,  seating  herself  opposite  her.  "Fraulein  Kitz- 
lein  didn't  know  when  she  made  up  my  room  this 
morning." 

"I  was  to  have  stayed  for  four  days,"  said 
Leslie,  "but  I  think  I  '11  go  to-morrow.  I  feel  quite 
—  quite  uncomfortable  —  as  if  I  had  no  right  to  be 
here." 

"  Yes,  that 's  the  way  I  feel,"  said  the  small  lady, 
"and  only  think,  I  've  lived  here  four  years,  feeling 
that  way!  But  it  wasn't  so  bad  before  Fraulei'i 
Kitzlein  came.  Oh,  believe  me,"  said  the  small  Li  \ 


LESLIE  GOES  TO  KOPFDORF         255 

with  her  pretty  appealing  earnestness,  "it  was  not 
anywhere  near  so  bad  before  Fraulein  Kitzlein 
came." 

"Who  is  Fraulein  Kitzlein?" 

"She's  the Stutze.  Oh,  do  you  know  what  a 
Stutze  is?  I  never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing  before  I 
came  here  to  live !  I  may  n't  have  my  breakfast  in 
bed  any  more  —  even  the  poor  old  doctor  may  n't 
have  his  in  bed.  And  we  may  n't  ever  be  out  after 
nine  o'clock  at  night.  It 's  dreadful !" 

"But  is  n't  the  Stutze  the  cook?" 

"No,  not  at  all  —  not  at  all.  She  does  the  cooking, 
but  she  is  n't  the  cook.  You  may  n't  fee  her ;  you 
must  keep  the  money  for  three  months  and  then  buy 
her  a  present  and  leave  the  price-mark  on  so  she  sees 
that  you  have  really  spent  the  money." 

Leslie  was  lost  in  amazement. 

"I  believe  I  won't  take  my  milk  to-day,"  said 
the  small  lady;  "I  '11  order  tea  for  you  here  with 
me.  You  'd  like  to  have  tea  with  me,  would  n't 
you?" 

"  Very  much,"  said  Leslie. 

"I  '11  just  run  down  and  ask  if  you  may,"  said  the 
small  lady;  "Fraulein  Kitzlein  is  rather  out  of  sorts 
to-day,  and  I  should  n't  like  to  offend  her  by  giving 


256  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

you  tea  without  asking  her  permission.  You  don't 
mind  my  leaving  you  a  minute?" 

She  rose  as  she  spoke,  to  leave  the  room. 

"Stop!"  cried  Leslie  suddenly. 

The  small  lady  stopped  with  a  kind  of  quick 
quiver. 

"Don't  ask  permission  for  me  to  have  tea  here. 
I  'm  not  going  to  stay  here.  I  could  n't  possibly  stay 
here.  Is  n't  there  a  hotel  in  town  ?  There  must  be  a 
hotel  in  town." 

The  small  lady  looked  frightened  out  of  all  her 
small  senses. 

"Get  the  girl  and  have  her  throw  my  trunk  out 
into  the  street,"  said  Leslie,  rising  with  resolution. 
"  I  don't  care  if  everything  in  it  smashes  to  bits.  And 
for  goodness'  sake,  let 's  get  into  the  street  ourselves. 
I  feel  choked." 

"  It 's  just  because  you  're  cold,"  gasped  the  small 
lady,  clasping  her  hands  appealingly.  "  You  're  cold 
and  —  and  nervous.  And  I  dare  n't  put  coal  on  the 
fire,  because  they  're  all  asleep.  But  oh,  dear,  don't 
go.  Don't  be  rash." 

"I  must  go,"  said  Leslie;  "where  is  a  hotel?  I  'd 
die  in  this  house.  I  can't  breathe." 

"  I  know,"  said  the  small  lady,  "  I  'm  that  way 


LESLIE  GOES  TO  KOPFDORF         257 

too,  but  it 's  only  Fraulein  Kitzlein.  You  '11  be 
very  comfortable,  oh,  believe  me,  you  '11  be  very 
comfortable." 

"  I  don't  care  what  I  pay  or  where  I  go,"  said  Leslie. 
"I  can't  stay  here." 

"Oh,"  cried  the  small  lady,  now  shaking  from 
head  to  foot  with  nervous  excitement,  "I  don't 
see  how  you  can  go.  What  will  Fraulein  Kitzlein 
say!" 

"I  don't  care  what  she  says,"  said  Leslie;  "but 
tell  me  the  name  of  the  best  hotel  in  Kopfdorf." 

"The  Gekronte  Engel  's  said  to  be  best,"  said  the 
small  lady,  now  close  to  sobbing.  "Oh,  dear,  I 
don't  know  what  to  do.  You  could  n't  go  there  alone, 
you  know?" 

"No,  of  course  not,"  said  Leslie,  "but  I  'm  going 
to  take  you  with  me,  you  poor  little  bit  of  a  down- 
trodden mortal." 

The  small  lady  gave  a  gasp,  and  Leslie  caught  her 
hand.  She  looked  such  a  mixture  of  fright  and  joy 
at  the  idea,  that  Leslie  wanted  to  cry  and  laugh  at 
once. 

"  Oh,  but  I  'm  afraid  that  Fraulein  Kitzlein 
would  n't  like  it,"  she  almost  wailed. 

"What  difference  does  it  make  whether  she  likes 


258  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

it  or  not?"  asked  Leslie.    "Come,  we  want  to  be  gone 
before  they  wake  up." 

The  small  lady  controlled  herself  quickly.  "Oh, 
yes,"  she  said,  with  sudden,  marvelous  self-control, 
"if  we  're  going,  we  'd  best  be  gone  before  they  wake 
up." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

LESLIE   DEVELOPS   IN  MANY   WAYS 

THE  small  lady  had  almost  contracted  the  habit  of 
gasping  instead  of  breathing,  by  the  time  she  found 
herself  installed  with  Leslie  at  the  Gekronte  Engel. 
Leslie  was  only  a  little  less  astonished.  She  had  never 
suspected  the  existence  of  this  side  of  herself.  Such 
initiative !  Such  energy !  They  were  actually  at  the 
hotel  and  all  nicely  settled  before  the  Bettschneider 
birds  awoke  to  the  fact  that  their  nest  was  empty. 
Leslie,  who  had  never  done  any  packing  in  her  life, 
had  —  under  the  stress  of  immediate  necessity  - 
risen  to  untold  heights  of  capability,  and  really  man- 
aged to  get  all  that  was  needed  into  the  small  lady's 
straw  basket.  (The  small  lady  had  not  traveled  for  so 
many  years  that  she  had  not  the  faintest  notion  what 
one  needed  for  leaving  home  over  night.) 

"It  is  n't  like  real  traveling,  you  know,"  Leslie  re- 
minded her,  while  picking  up  her  soap,  tooth-brush, 
etc.,  with  a  hand  that  was  so  assured  that  to  the 


260  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

small  lady's  inexperience  it  appeared  practiced.  "If 
you  want  anything,  we  can  easily  run  up  here  and 
get  it  any  minute." 

"Oh  —  h,  would  you  dare  come  here  again?"  the 
small  lady  asked,  stupefied,  "after  leaving  like  this?" 

"Why,  of  course,"  said  Leslie;  "what  have  I  done 
to  be  ashamed  of?  I  shall  come  and  call  to-morrow 
at  noon.  Quite  in  the  correct  German  style." 

At  this  the  small  lady  stared  more  and  became  more 
stupefied,  but  already  knew  Leslie  well  enough  not  to 
doubt  that  she  was  going  to  do  anything  she  said  she 
was  going  to  do. 

Their  rooms  at  the  Gekronte  Engel  were  lovely,  with 
convenient  little  cupboards  opening  in  the  wall-paper 
here  and  there.  The  Oberkettner  ran  back  and  forth, 
and  rubbed  his  hands  and  smiled,  and  made  them  very 
comfortable.  Leslie's  room  projected  beyond  the 
small  lady's,  but  the  small  lady  had  a  chest  of  drawers 
to  equalize  things. 

"Well,  I  never  did!"  said  the  small  lady.  "I  'm 
sure  I  'm  dreaming.  Why,  I  have  n't  known  you  an 
hour  yet." 

"  It 's  been  the  liveliest  hour  you  've  known  for  a 
long  time !"  laughed  Leslie. 

"It's  been  the  liveliest  hour  of  my  whole  life," 


LESLIE  DEVELOPS  IN  MANY  WAYS    261 

said  the  small  lady,  with  every  appearance  of  speak- 
ing the  truth.  They  had  some  hot  chocolate  instead 
of  tea,  and  Leslie,  seeing  a  cake-shop  opposite,  flew 
down,  and  out,  and  over,  and  bought  enough  cakes 
for  six,  all  for  twelve  and  a  half  cents. 

"Is  n't  this  fun?"  she  laughed,  coming  in,  panting. 
"It's  such  fun  for  me.  I'm  always  so  carefully 
looked  out  for,  you  know." 

"It's  fun  for  me,  surely,"  said  the  small  lady, 
quite  beaming. 

They  spread  a  clean  towel  on  the  center-table  and 
arranged  their  little  feast  upon  it. 

"  It 's  like  playing  doll's-house  with  you  for  the  doll," 
Leslie  told  her  companion  gleefully.  "You  are  the 
dearest  little  thing  I  ever  had  to  play  with,  truly." 

The  small  lady  beamed  some  more.  "  I  've  always 
been  considered  very  small,"  she  said.  "I  'm  so  glad 
you  like  it  in  me." 

"I'm  glad  that  I  came  to  Kopfdorf  now,"  Leslie 
said.  She  quite  meant  it.  She  felt  utterly  happy 
and  full  of  new  sensations.  The  small  lady  was  more 
interesting  than  any  man  that  she  had  ever  known  — 
except  Hugo.  Only  to  look  at  her  filled  one  with  new 
conceptions  of  ways  to  brighten  her  gray  little  life. 
"I  expect  there  are  ever  so  many  people  like  her  in 


262  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

the  world,"  thought  Leslie,  "and  I  've  never  thought 
a  thing  about  them.  I  must  hunt  them  out  from  now 
on.  I  can  have  a  lot  of  this  kind  of  fun  if  I  just  bother 
to  hunt  for  those  who  don't  have  much.  I  '11  whisk 
all  sorts  of  small  ladies  off  for  a  frolic,  and  I  '11  snatch 
little  beggars  out  of  the  gutter  and  give  them  a  cake 
every  chance  I  get."  Her  face  grew  so  bright  at  the 
thought  that  her  new  friend  said,  "How  happy  you 
look!" 

"I  am  happy,"  said  Leslie;  "we're  both  happy, 
aren't  we?" 

"  I  think  I  'm  in  a  book,"  said  the  small  lady. 

"It 's  better  than  a  book,"  said  Leslie,  "because  it 
really  is  real.  But  I  suppose  the  way  we  came  to  meet 
was  a  bit  book-like.  You  're  a  little  book-like  your- 
self ;  you  're  quite  different  from  anything  I  've  ever 
seen." 

The  small  lady  took  no  offense  at  being  denominated 
thus  by  Leslie's  careless  Americanism.  On  the  con- 
trary, she  echoed  the  other's  words  at  once.  "And 
you  're  surely  different  from  anything  I  've  ever 
seen,"  she  said.  "I  never  knew  an  American  before. 
I  had  no  idea  they  were  so  kind." 

"Well,  they  're  not  all  like  me,"  Leslie  felt  impelled 
to  admit ;  "  you  see,  I  've  lived  abroad  so  much  I  'm 


LESLIE  DEVELOPS  IN  MANY  WAYS    263 

really  quite  European.  I  never  forget  to  say  'How 
do  you  do'  and  'Adieu'  when  I  go  in  and  out  of 
stores.  Oh,  I  'm  very  European." 

"Yes,"  said  the  small  lady  agreeably.  "I  'm  sure 
you  're  very  much  nicer  than  most  people." 

"Well,  I  do  think  I  'm  nicer  than  the  majority  of 
Americans  one  meets  over  here,"  said  Leslie.  "Of 
course  it  isn't  their  fault  that  they  act  as  they 
do,  though,  because  you  see  we  're  brought  up  so 
differently." 

"Yes?"  said  the  small  lady,  sweetly  interested. 

"Yes,"  said  Leslie,  knitting  her  brows,  "you  see 
the  servants  go  out  all  the  time  with  us,  and  the  ladies 
and  gentlemen  clean  their  own  shoes,  and  it  makes 
us  all  free  and  equal  and  easy  in  our  manners." 

"It  must  seem  very  strange  to  you  over  here," 
suggested  the  small  lady,  "having  your  shoes  cleaned 
for  you  and  all  that?" 

"Yes,  it  does,"  said  Leslie,  "and  it  makes  us  rather 
light-headed  the  first  one  or  two  trips.  You  see  we  're 
so  grateful  for  the  waiting  on  that  we  give  too  big  fees, 
and  we  're  so  used  to  marrying  the  cook  at  home  that 
we  're  too  familiar  with  the  servants  over  here.  One 
does  n't  dare  be  haughty  with  us  —  anybody  may  be 
a  millionaire,  and  they  're  the  only  kings  we  've  got.'* 


264  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Dear  me,"  said  the  small  lady;  "don't  you  have 
any  upper  or  lower  classes?" 

"Well,  we  have  people  who  have  lost  their  money," 
said  Leslie  thoughtfully;  "they  're  lower." 

"I  'd  be  nobody  there,  then,"  said  the  small  lady 
quietly;  "because  I  lost  mine  ever  so  long  ago." 

Leslie  jumped  up  and  ran  around  the  table  and 
kissed  her.  "  I  'm  going  to  be  tremendously  nice  to 
every  one  who  has  lost  their  money  after  this,"  she 
said.  "  1 'm  going  to  take  a  vow  in  a  church  about  it." 

"  Oh,  me,"  said  the  small  lady,  "  I  'm  sure  Americans 
are  superior  to  all  other  people,  if  they  're  all  like  you." 

"Oh,  but  you  mustn't  think  that,"  said  Leslie. 
"I  told  you  before  that  I  wasn't  at  all  American. 
I  'm  reserved ;  I  learned  that  over  here.  And  I  'm 
never  impulsive;  Americans  are  apt  to  be  very  im- 
pulsive. And  then  I  'm  very,  very  conventional ;  I 
always  keep  a  maid  and  a  companion,  too,  just  to  be 
proper." 

"Where  are  they  now?"  asked  the  small  lady,  with 
innocent  wonder. 

"I  lent  the  maid  to  Grafin  Morgenlicht,"  said  Les- 
lie, "and  I  left  the  companion  in  London.  She  's  the 
greatest  bore  you  ever  saw  in  your  life ;  all  the  men  I 
know  just  hate  her.  I  'm  buying  her  theatre  tickets 


LESLIE  DEVELOPS  IN  MANY  WAYS     265 

and  giving  her  trips  that  she  can't  get  possibly  back 
from  in  time  for  meals,  the  whole  livelong  tune." 

"Yes,"  said  the  small  lady  sympathetically,  "that 
must  be  hard." 

"But  you  see  I  have  to  have  her,  because  it  would 
look  so  queer  if  I  did  n't.  And  I  'm  too  well-versed 
in  European  etiquette  to  look  queer.  I  think  the 
way  American  women  ran  around  over  here  is  shock- 
ing —  just  shocking  —  and  so  I  never  stir  without 
my  maid  and  companion." 

"Yes?"  said  the  small  lady,  putting  in  an  occa- 
sional interrogation  point  just  to  show  her  interest. 
"  I  'm  sure  you  're  quite  right,  and  I  think  America 
must  be  quite  perfect." 

"No,  I  wouldn't  say  that,"  said  Leslie,  daunted; 
"it 's  too  expensive  to  be  very  nice.  Oh,  you  Ve  no 
idea  how  everything  costs  there.  Why,  in  Berlin 
I  'm  going  to  have  a  lovely  suite  —  two  large  rooms 
and  a  bath  at  the  Bristol  —  for  eight  dollars  and  a 
half  a  day,  and  in  Boston  I  pay  almost  that  for 
just  a  bedroom." 

The  small  lady  did  n't  know  how  much  a  dollar 
was,  so  she  filled  her  mouth  with  her  last  bit  of  cake 
and  smiled  sweetly. 

"And  now  do  let 's  go  out,"  said  Leslie.     "Let 's 


266  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

go  and  walk  up  and  down  the  main  street  and  buy 
presents  for  all  the  Bettschneider  family." 

The  small  lady's  jaw  dropped.  "For  all  the  Bett- 
schneider family!"  she  gasped. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Leslie,  "I  love  buying  presents,  and 
we  '11  fix  up  just  the  sweetest  hamper  imaginable,  and 
send  it  out  there  before  bedtime.  I  don't  want  them 
to  dislike  me,  just  because  I  could  n't  possibly  stand 
living  with  them,  you  know. " 

"No  —  o  —  o,  I  suppose  not,"  said  the  small  lady, 
feebly,  "Well,  you  are  kind!" 

Leslie  began  to  feel  her  new  character  growing  upon 
her.  It  was  more  and  more  delightful.  What  would 
Hugo  say  if  he  could  hear  the  small  lady!  Hugo 
had  characterized  her  as  "  somebody  who  had  n't  an 
ounce  of  heart  to  her  credit "  during  their  last  stormy 
interview.  If  he  could  see  her  now ! 

They  put  on  their  things  and  went  out  into  the 
brightly  lighted  Hoch  Kopfdorf  Strasse  and  spent  a 
picturesque,  pleasant,  and  profitable  hour,  wandering 
up  and  down  the  sidewalk,  criss-crossing  the  quiet 
middle  of  the  street,  and  buying  presents  for  the 
Bettschneiders. 

"I  love  to  do  things  like  this,"  said  Leslie,  who  had 
mever  done  anything  like  this  in  all  her  life  before,  but 


LESLIE  DEVELOPS  IN  MANY  WAYS    267 

was  now  firmly  launched  in  the  new  way;  "it 's  such 
fun!" 

"I  'm  sure  it 's  very  kind  of  you,"  said  the  small 
lady  for  the  twentieth  time  in  two  hours.  Her  face 
was  wreathed  in  worship  of  the  angel  at  her  side.  "  I 
can't  imagine  how  you  think  of  so  many  ways  to  be 
so  good,"  she  added. 

"It 's  because  I  'm  such  a  very  happy  woman,"  said 
Leslie,  drifting  towards  further  daring.  "  I  did  n't 
tell  you  why  I  was  so  happy  before,  but  you  see  I  'm 
going  to  marry  a  man  that  I  love  very  much."  The 
words  were  out  of  her  mouth  before  she  could  stop 
them.  She  was  quite  overcome  at  her  own  audacity  in 
making  the  statement  then,  and  paused  to  consider. 

"Yes?"  said  the  small  lady,  with  the  fullest  possi- 
ble faith. 

Leslie  looked  at  her.  The  small  lady  evidently 
believed  every  word  that  was  said  to  her.  The  temp- 
tation to  continue  to  talk  about  Hugo  was  altogether 
irresistible  under  the  circumstances.  "And  if  he 
never  marries  me,"  Leslie  reflected,  "I  can  say  he 
dropped  dead  in  Mauritius,  and  she  '11  believe  that, 
too." 

"Oh,  I'm  very,  very  happy,"  she  said  aloud; 
"you  don't  know  what  it  is  to  be  going  to  marry  the 


268  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

man  you  love.  It  makes  you  long  to  do  some- 
thing to  make  every  one  else  happy  too.  I  'm  so 
happy!" 

She  actually  was  as  happy  as  she  proclaimed  her- 
self to  be  in  that  minute.  She  hadn't  the  slightest 
consciousness  that  she  was  actuated  by  the  under- 
lying principle  of  all  ideals  and  realities  in  thus  ex- 
pressing herself,  but  she  did  know  that  she  was 
happier  than  she  had  ever  been  before  hi  her  whole 
bright  life. 

"I'm  so  glad,"  said  the  small  lady,  looking  ear- 
nestly up  at  her.  "I  only  hope  he  's  worthy  you." 

"He  's  one  of  the  grandest  men  that  ever  lived," 
said  Leslie,  telling  the  truth  that  time. 

"  I  'm  so  glad  for  you  both,"  said  the  small  lady, 
deep  sincerity  ringing  in  her  little  voice.  "I  hope 
you  '11  both  be  very  happy." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Leslie,  accepting  the  good  wish 
with  equal  sincerity. 

They  stopped  at  Schobenstein  and  Schneedenthal's 
just  then  to  buy  a  blouse  for  Fraulein  Kitzlein. 

"I  think  that 's  especially  kind  in  you,"  said  the 
small  lady  warmly,  "  when  it  was  she  that  really  kept 
you  from  so  much  as  sitting  on  the  sofa." 

"  I  do  try  to  be  nice,"  said  Leslie ;  "  you  see  the  man 


LESLIE  DEVELOPS  IN  MANY  WAYS    269 

I  love  has  such  a  beautiful  disposition  that  it  makes 
me  want  to  always  be  sweet-tempered  too."  She 
thought  as  she  spoke  of  a  certain  incisive  growl  in 
which  Hugo  was  wont  to  interpret  the  deeper  side  of 
his  nature  to  human  understanding,  but  she  was  now 
completely  carried  away  by  her  new  position  in  speech. 

"I  think  a  sweet  disposition  is  so  pleasant  in  a 
man/'  said  the  small  lady. 

"Oh,  you  should  hear  the  man  I  love  getting  a  tele- 
phone connection ! "  said  Leslie,  suddenly  lapsing 
into  truth  again.  Then  she  went  to  the  Kasse  to  pay 
for  Fraulein  Kitzlein's  blouse. 

"We  're  going  to  have  a  telephone  system  in  Kopf- 
dorf  pretty  soon,"  said  the  small  lady  when  she  came 
back.  "If  you  ever  come  here  after  you  're  married 
I  '11  be  able  to  hear  him  talk  over  it,  maybe." 

"I  think  that  we'll  come  here  some  time,"  said 
Leslie,  now  thoroughly  enjoying  the  semblance  of 
reality  which  her  dreams  assumed  by  being  accepted 
without  question,  "but  we're  going  to  buy  a  large 
place  and  live  in  the  country.  We  're  both  very  fond 
of  the  country." 

"I  think  you  '11  like  it  for  a  while,"  said  the  small 
lady  artlessly. 

"If  he  doesn't  like  it,  we  won't  live  there  long," 


270  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

said  Leslie,  recollecting  some  salient  traits  of  Hugo's 
and  deftly  incorporating  them  into  her  narrative; 
"he  's  that  kind  of  a  man." 

"  I  'm  sure  he  's  very  nice,"  said  the  small  lady 
again. 

"  Oh,  he  's  the  dearest  man  alive,"  said  Leslie,  with 
sudden  overwhelming  conviction.  "When  we  get  our 
place  you  must  come  and  visit  us." 

"I  should  like  that,"  said  the  small  lady. 

WTien  they  had  their  arms  completely  full  of  parcels 
they  went  back  to  the  hotel,  and  Leslie  proceeded  to 
arrange  the  hamper.  "It  was  too  lovely,"  the  small 
lady  kept  saying  over  and  over. 

"  I  'm  going  to  send  it  in  your  name  as  well  as  mine, 
you  know,"  Leslie  told  her,  as  she  tied  down  the 
catch  with  a  big  ribbon  bow  that  would  make  a  nice 
Schlips  later.  A  Schlips  is  a  stock  in  German. 

"  In  my  name ! "  shrieked  the  small  lady ;  "  oh,  no." 

"Yes,  then  they  '11  be  nice  to  you  on  account  of  it," 
said  Leslie.  "You  '11  find  it  much  easier  to  go  back 
to  them  if  they  Ve  had  these  presents  from  us  both 
together." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  the  small  lady ;  "  how  you  do  think 
of  everything !  Yes,  that 's  true." 

The  hamper  set  off  to  the  Bettschneiders  at  eight 


LESLIE  DEVELOPS  IN  MANY  WAYS    271 

o'clock,  and  the  next  day  Leslie  called  on  the  family. 
They  all  liked  her  very,  very  much,  and  looked  upon 
her  strange  and  unprecedented  entrance  into  and 
exit  from  their  house  as  pleasant  American  idio- 
syncrasies. 

"They  '11  invite  you  to  Abendbrot,  I  think,"  said  the 
small  lady,  when  she  and  Leslie  were  on  their  way 
back  to  the  home-like  hotel.  "I  wonder  if  they'll 
give  you  an  egg-cup.  I  never  have  one." 

Leslie  just  laughed.  The  Bettschneiders  did  ask 
her  to  Abendbrot  the  next  day,  but  she  and  the  small 
lady  were  going  to  the  Hauptstadt  to  shop  and  so  had 
to  refuse  the  invitation. 

Leslie  spent  six  blissful  days  in  Kopfdorf.  They 
were  wonderful  days  —  days  that  did  for  her  nature 
and  life  what  the  first  warm  spring  rain  and  the  first 
hot  spring  sun  do  for  the  forest  buds.  Her  soul, 
hitherto  a  veritable  Sleeping  Princess  of  a  soul,  burst 
into  bloom,  and  it  was  the  small  lady's  smile,  and 
the  small  lady's  little  voice,  gentle  tenderness,  and 
plaintive  wet  eyes,  that  wrought  the  miracle.  They 
revealed  possibilities  so  big,  and  hitherto  left  by  her 
so  unfilled,  that  a  weaker  woman  might  have  drawn 
back  blinded.  But  Leslie  was  very  brave.  She  never 
had  known  fear,  and  she  did  not  fear  now.  She  just 


272  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

opened  eyes  and  arms  to  all  this  new  Future,  for  the 
first  time  revealed  to  her  heart  and  soul. 

The  day  to  leave  swept  down  upon  them  all  too 
quickly.  A  letter  from  the  Grafin  announcing  her 
survival  of  the  wedding  and  her  imminent  departure 
for  Berlin,  fixed  the  date  for  Leslie  to  go  too.  When 
her  trunk  was  packed  for  the  Gekronte  Engel's  omni- 
bus to  take  to  the  Hauptbahnhof,  the  OberkeUner 
called  a  cab  and  they  put  into  it  the  small  lady's 
straw  basket. 

"I  can't  think  whatever  makes  you  so  kind,"  she 
said  to  Leslie,  with  a  little  quiver  in  her  tone,  as  they 
stepped  into  the  cab  and  drove  off.  "  I  think  you  're 
the  kindest  person  I  ever  knew." 

"  It 's  just  because  he  's  going  to  make  me  so  very, 
very  happy,"  said  Leslie,  her  own  voice  a  bit  unsteady. 
Oddly  enough,  her  constant  proclamation  of  Hugo's 
perfections  had  altogether  altered  him  in  her  own 
estimation.  The  small  lady  had  not  only  exalted  Leslie 
in  Leslie's  eyes,  but  had  led  Leslie  to  exalt  Hugo.  She 
saw  all  sorts  of  big,  fine  traits  in  him  now  which  she  had 
never  even  thought  of  before.  From  trying  to  depict 
him  as  a  true  hero  for  the  small  lady's  benefit,  she  had 
raised  him  to  one  in  a  new  sense  for  herself.  The 
world  had  not  only  widened,  as  far  as  heaven  lies  to 


LESLIE  DEVELOPS  IN  MANY  WAYS    273 

left  and  right  for  her,  but  Hugo  had  suddenly  become 
universal,  and  easily  filled  every  one  of  its  grand  possi- 
bilities to  the  uttermost  limit.  Leslie  winked  hard. 
She  held  the  small  lady's  hand  tightly,  but  had  no 
words  in  which  to  tell  her  that  it  was  she  —  the  small 
lady  —  who  was  kind  in  the  great,  divine  sense  of 
what  kindness  may  truly  mean. 

When  they  drove  up  to  the  Bettschneiders',  the 
maid  was  watching  for  them  and  came  running.  Les- 
lie stepped  from  the  cab  and  so  did  the  small 
lady. 

"I  mustn't  come  in."  said  Leslie.  "I  '11  stay  too 
long  and  miss  my  train."  She  got  out  her  pocket- 
handkerchief  again  as  she  spoke,  and  the  small  lady 
did  the  same. 

They  hugged  and  kissed  one  another,  and  there 
were  more  tears  —  not  many  this  time,  but  very  big, 
warm  ones. 

Then  Leslie  got  back  into  the  cab,  and  the  small 
lady  went  into  the  house. 

It  was  much  like  catching  a  canary  that  has  been 
fluttering  among  the  pink  azalea  blossoms  in  the 
sunny  bow-window,  and  heartlessly  thrusting  it  back 
into  the  cage  again !  So  like  !  So  like  ! 

As  the  cab  rattled  and  jolted  over  the  stout,  dura- 


274  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

ble  stone  pavement  of  Kopfdorf,  Leslie  had  to  wipe 
her  eyes  again  and  again,  and  continually  harder. 
It  was  part  of  the  new  growth  in  her  soul  that 
she  was  newly  tender-hearted,  and  newly  soft  to 
sympathy. 

"But  I  shall  have  her  to  visit  me,"  she  sobbed,  try- 
ing to  swallow  her  feelings  as  fast  as  they  choked  her, 
"and  I  '11  never  forget  my  visit  here.  If  Hugo  only 
knew  it,  I  'm  good  now !  I  'm  good !  " 

The  cab  drew  up  before  the  station,  and  there, 
right  in  front  of  the  big  middle  door,  stood  Baron 
Dienstag,  smiling  all  on  one  side  of  his  face  as 
usual.  Leslie  gasped.  Then  she  saw  Rose  standing 
a  little  back,  and  her  joy  was  boundless.  She 
was  actually  gladder  to  see  Rose  than  to  see  the 
baron. 

"Oh,  I  am  good  now,"  she  thought,  with  bubbling 
satisfaction  over  her  purified  standpoint. 

"  I  never  found  out  where  you  went  till  to-day,"  said 
the  resplendent  Hussar.  "They  're  very  careful  of 
your  address  at  the  Schloss.  I  'd  have  come  the  day 
after  you  did,  if  I  'd  known." 

Leslie  saw  now  that  the  Grafin  von  Morgenlicht 
was  the  best  friend  she  had  in  the  world. 

"My  goodness,  just  think  if  he  had  come,"  she 


LESLIE  DEVELOPS  IN  MANY  WAYS     275 

thought,  with  a  cold  chill  of  fright.  "The  small  lady 
would  n't  have  been  a  bit  of  good  at  helping  me  out, 
and  —  why  —  no  one  can  tell  what  might  have 
happened!"  Then  she  remembered  that  he  had  no 
Schloss,  either. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

LESLIE   MEETS  FRIENDS 

BARON  DIENSTAG,  Leslie,  and  Leslie's  maid  all  trav- 
eled to  Berlin  together.  Usually  ladies'  maids  go  sec- 
ond class,  but  Leslie  liked  having  hers  with  her,  and 
Rose  more  than  paid  her  way  by  always  remembering 
to  get  the  umbrella  out  of  the  rack  when  they  left  the 
train. 

The  conversation  was  less  lively  than  might  have 
been  expected.  Leslie  could  not  quite  understand  its 
dullness  herself,  but  there  seemed  to  have  been  some 
subtle  change  wrought  in  her  point  of  view  by  the 
sweet,  silent  pathos  of  the  last  few  days.  We  never 
can  know  just  when  or  where  the  best  in  our  make-up 
may  burst  into  bloom,  and  in  some  mysterious  manner 
quaint  old  Kopfdorf  and  the  small  lady  had  managed 
to  change  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  for  Leslie.  Hugo 
loomed  mightier  and  more  wonderful,  and  life  loomed 
very  much  as  Hugo  did,  but  the  same  glory  that  caused 
so  much  to  shine  resplendent,  seemed  to  somehow  dim 


LESLIE  MEETS  FRIENDS  277 

the  silver-braided  glory  of  the  little  Dienstag.  Leslie, 
who  had  found  him  so  amusing  at  Morgenlicht,  found 
him  quite  otherwise  pulling  out  of  Kopfdorf ,  heavy  at 
Magdeburg,  insufferable  at  Brandenburg,  and  abso- 
lutely out  of  the  question  t  the  Potsdamer  Bahnhof . 
And  yet  she  realty  could  n't  just  see  why. 

"I  do  wonder  if  I  'm  getting  tired  of  men,"  she 
thought  in  startled  wonder  at  so  dire  a  possibility. 
" Oh,  dear!  If  I  am!" 

They  arrived  in  Berlin  about  six  o'clock  and  drove 
straight  to  the  Hotel  Bristol.  The  lovely,  snuff- 
brown  carriage-man  came  hurrying  forth,  and  the 
lady,  the  Hussar,  and  the  lady's  maid  were  let  out 
and  let  in.  Rooms  were  awaiting  them.  Heaven 
knows  where  the  baron  lodged  himself,  but  Leslie 
was  taken  straightway  to  the  most  charming  suite 
imaginable,  with  two  doors  set  in  every  casing.  A 
pretty  sitting-room  with  one  telephone  on  a  table 
and  another  that  looked  like  an  ear-muff  clinging  to 
the  wall,  a  double-bedded  bedroom,  and  a  wonderful 
bath-room,  containing  a  bath  that  had  tile  steps  lead- 
ing down  to  it  by  easy  gradations.  One  of  the  doors 
in  her  sitting-room  opened  into  the  Grafin's  sitting- 
room,  and  the  Grafin  came  running  in  to  kiss  her  on 
both  cheeks  at  once. 


278  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  Well,  they  are 
married !  And  you  can  believe  that  we  are  relieved." 

"I'm  so  glad!"  said  Leslie.    "Did  it  go  off  well?" 

"No,  it  didn't  go  off  well  at  all,"  called  the  Graf 
from  the  other  room.  (His  wife  had  left  both  of  the 
doors  in  that  casing  open.)  "It  snowed!" 

"Oh,  dear,"  said  Leslie. 

"Yes,  it  snowed,"  said  the  Grafin,  "oh,  and  how  it 
snowed !  And  one  of  the  old  princes  caught  cold." 

"And  the  other  old  prince  caught  a  worse  one," 
called  out  the  Graf,  "so  he  never  said  a  word  all 
the  time." 

"But,  dear  Mann"  called  back  the  Grafin,  "that 
was  because  his  physician  forbade  him  to  speak." 

"And  that  reigning  prince  brought  a  valet  that  was 
a  Moor,"  said  the  Graf,  now  coming  hi  and  joining 
them,  "and  nobody  told  us.  When  he  was  going  up 
to  the  Friedrich  des  Grossen  Saal  with  his  master's 
bag  he  met  the  old  duchess'  Kammerjungfer  coming 
down  with  the  cognac  and  — ' 

"And  she  fell,"  said  his  wife,  "and  she  spilt  the 
cognac  all  over  the  Sans  Souci  Treppe  —  that  little 
stone  stair,  you  know.  We  call  it  the  Sans  Souci 
Treppe  because  one  has  to  be  so  careful  not  to  fall." 

"It 's  a  little  joke,  you  see,"  said  the  Graf;  "it 's  a 


LESLIE  MEETS  FRIENDS  279 

joke  about  the  stairs,  and  then  they  go  to  Friedrich 
des  Grossen  Saal ;  so  that 's  another  joke." 

"Yes,  and  then  he  met  my  Kammerjungfer  with 
two  jugs  of  hot  water/'  continued  the  Grafin,  "and  she 
fell  and  spilt  the  water,  and  then  he  met  me  in  the 
corridor  in  my  dinner-dress,  and  I  fell." 

"  But  you  did  n't  spill  anything,"  said  the  Graf, 

" Lieber  Mann,"  said  his  wife,  "it  was  that  I  was 
not  carrying  anything.  That  was  all  the  difference." 

"No  one  told  us  he  was  a  Moor,"  said  the  Graf, 
again. 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  Moor?"  the  Grafin  asked 
Leslie. 

"I  know  what  they  look  like,"  said  Leslie. 

"Yes,  but  not  this  one,"  said  the  Grafin.  "I  was 
sure  it  was  the  devil.  So  black ! " 

"He  came  from  Africa,"  said  the  Graf;  "the 
prince  said  he  made  an  excellent  valet." 

"  Yes,  but  he  was  so  cold,"  said  the  Grafin ;  "  he  was 
shaking  and  shivering  all  the  time.  And,  oh,  but 
how  it  snowed ! " 

"It  was  good  weather  for  the  Jagd,"  said  the 
Graf. 

"And  I  could  n't  borrow  a  carpet  for  the  church," 
said  the  Grafin,  "and  Witzleben  wouldn't  stay  with 


"280  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Dienstag.  Only  think.  I  had  to  have  him  in  my 
dressing-room.  And  Hohenthal  brought  his  nephew." 

"His  nephew  is  narrowly  related  to  us/'  said  the 
Grafin  in  an  explanatory  tone. 

"His  mother  was  a  Von  Querseife/'  explained  the 
Grafin  kindly. 

"And  her  mother  was  a  Gegeniiber,"  said  the 
Graf. 

"And  that  chimney  did  smoke/'  said  the  Grafin, 
"and,  oh,  the  bed  linen.  I  had  all  the  bed  linen  in  the 
country  side." 

"They  're  washing  it  while  we  're  here/'  said  the 
Graf. 

"We  shan't  go  home  till  they  write  that  everything 
is  in  order,"  said  the  Grafin.  "  Liebesthal  is  here  while 
they  get  his  house  to  rights,  too.  He  kept  twenty- 
three  people." 

"And  so  he  wouldn't  lend  us  anything/'  said  the 
Graf;  "he  said  he  needed  all  his  things  for  his  own 
house." 

"I  told  you  that  he  was  that  kind  of  a  man,"  said 
the  Grafin.  "Think  of  such  a  neighbor!" 

After  a  while  they  went  back  to  their  own  quarters 
and  shut  the  two  doors  between.  Then  Leslie  began 
to  dress  for  dinner.  They  had  a  jolly  little  party  down 


LESLIE  MEETS  FRIENDS  281 

in  the  cafe  with  the  Hussar  and  the  Monocle  for 
guests.  The  conversation  was  again  mainly  about 
the  wedding,  with  occasional  side  excursions  regarding 
the  maternal  relatives  of  the  guests.  After  dinner 
they  went  to  the  Tiergarten  in  a  motor  and  looked  at 
the  monument  and  at  the  soldier  in  front  of  it.  Leslie 
thought  the  Siegesallee  very  beautiful  and  striking, 
but  her  German  friends  explained  to  her  that  it  was 
neither,  so  she  at  once  promised  to  change  her  mind. 
Then  they  went  to  the  theatre  for  a  little  and  then  to 
a  cafe  for  a  little,  and  then  home. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  Leslie  got  to  her  rooms, 
and  she  couldn't  understand  her  being  so  fearfully 
tired  out.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  wonderful  Graf 
was  almost  as  uninteresting  as  the  simple-minded 
Hussar.  She  was  much  surprised  to  find  herself  long- 
ing for  the  small  lady.  "  Goodness  me,"  she  thought, 
all  the  time  that  Rose  was  unhooking  her,  "I  am 
changed.  What  is  going  to  happen  to  me!"  Rose 
took  off  her  corsage,  and  she  stepped  carefully  out  of 
her  skirt  alone.  "It  can't  be  I  'm  getting  old,"  she 
thought,  "and  yet  I  must  be  getting  something  if  a 
Hussar  bores  me,  and  a  schloss  does  n't  allure  me  any 
more." 

After  she  was  in  between  the  silky  coolness  of  the 


282  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

linen  sheets  she  thought  of  Hugo.  It  might  have 
been  feared  that  she  would  worry  over  the  possibility 
of  his  boring  her,  too,  but  she  never  thought  of  that 
at  all.  Instead  Hugo's  halo  widened  and  brightened 
out  of  all  proportion  to  the  feelings  which  his  long 
absence  should  have  brought  forth.  She  found  herself 
strangely  regretful  and  self-reproachful  in  view  of  her 
memories.  "I  expect  I  am  a  little  fool,  just  as  he 
says,"  she  confessed  humbly.  It  was  a  great  step  ahead 
for  Leslie  to  be  humble  —  let  alone  her  vast  advance 
into  the  realm  of  accurate  investigation  when  she 
recognized  herself  as  a  little  fool.  She  considered  the 
whole  for  some  time,  then  sighed,  thought  some  more 
about  Hugo,  much  about  the  small  lady,  then  much 
more  about  Hugo.  And  then  she  slept. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

AU   REVOIR 

THE  next  morning  Leslie  awoke  about  nine  o'clock. 
She  certainly  had  slept  well,  long,  and  liberally,  and 
she  was  not  so  different  from  the  ordinary  run  of 
womenkind  but  that  it  did  her  a  lot  of  good.  Hook- 
ing her  fingers  together  behind  her  neck,  she  sighed 
happily  and  felt  life  to  be  very  much  fuller  of  big  and 
beautiful  possibilities  than  she  had  ever  dreamed  be- 
fore. She  felt  widely  content,  —  content  with  her- 
self because  she  was  going  to  be  so  different,  and 
with  all  the  world  because  she  was  going  to  make 
it  so  different.  It  was  a  beautiful  spirit  in  which  to 
awake,  and  she  looked  up  at  the  sky-blue  ceiling  and 
saw  through  tears  that  its  blue  was  at  once  the  color 
of  heaven  and  of  the  small  lady's  tender  eyes.  She 
felt  her  heart  swell  to  choking.  I  suppose  that  the 
wood-flowers  feel  just  so  the  hour  before  they  open 
to  their  first  day,  full  of  upward-bent  longings, 
conscious  of  new,  hitherto  unknown  desires  and 
aspirations. 


284  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"Really,  I  feel  as  if,  instead  of  always  aching  to  do 
what  I  must  n't,  I  was  going  to  learn  to  like  to  do  all 
that  I  can,"  thought  this  new  Leslie,  very  flower-like 
herself,  had  any  one  been  by  to  see  her  in  that  mo- 
ment. Her  twisted  grammar  did  not  clarify  her  little 
up-springing  aspirations  any  too  clearly,  but  her  eyes 
were  very  sweet  and  earnest,  indeed. 

"'Oh,  I  am  going  to  be  worthier  to  be  alive,"  she 
added,  and  her  purified  consciousness  led  her  to  feel 
that  she  had  indeed  allowed  many  opportunities  to 
"pass  her  by."  (Although  not  in  the  way  that 
Maurice  had  meant.) 

Rose  brought  her  her  mail  presently,  and  got  the 
bath  ready  while  she  looked  it  over.  The  Graf  and 
Grafin  were  long  up,  Rose  reported,  and  the  Grafin's 
Kammerjungfer  had  announced  that  they  had  gone 
to  look  at  a  threshing-machine.  Graf  Liebesthal  had 
sent  some  violets,  and  Baron  Dienstag  had  sent  some 
lilies-of-the- valley ;  some  plain,  unadorned  English- 
men and  Americans  had  left  cards  and  notes,  too. 
Leslie  looked  everything  over  before  she  felt  that  it 
was  her  duty  to  rise  and  make  use  of  the  tiled  descent 
into  her  tub.  It  struck  her  as  very  curious,  but  not 
so  much  more  curious  than  the  English  giant  dish- 
pan;  and  it  was  n't  really  so  bad  after  one  was  actu 


AU  REVOIR  285 

ally  down  and  in,  since  then  one  could  rest  one's  head 
on  the  second  lowest  step  and  float.  "I  do  like  Ger- 
man ways,"  Leslie  thought,  floating. 

Afterwards  she  dressed  in  a  nice,  demure,  blue 
walking-suit  and  went  into  the  sitting-room  for  her 
chocolate.  It  was  beautifully  served  by  a  young 
waiter,  whose  eyes  were  as  wicked  as  Maurice's  own. 
Leslie  drank  appreciatively. 

Presently  there  came  a  rap  at  the  door.  She 
cried,  "Herein"  thinking  that  the  happily  disposed 
young  waiter  had  something  else  to  feed  her. 

In  answer  Hugo  walked  into  the  room.  He  looked 
very  big,  and  quite  composed,  as  usual. 

Leslie  started  violently.  "  Oh,  dear,"  she  exclaimed, 
"Oh,  my!" 

Hugo  came  to  her  side  and  shook  hands. 

"Oh,  my,"  she  said  again,  then  "oh,  dear!  Oh, 
why  did  n't  you  send  up,  or  telephone  —  or  — 

"Go  on  and  finish  your  breakfast,"  he  said,  sitting 
down  and  smiling  pleasantly.  "  I  found  out  that  you 
were  all  right  before  I  knocked." 

"Oh,  dear!  How  do  you  find  out  things?"  she 
said  helplessly,  looking  feebly  first  at  her  plate  and 
then  at  him. 

"Go  on  with  your  breakfast,"  said  Hugo.    He  had 


286  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

ceased  to  answer  questions  years  ago.  He  thought  it 
a  foolish  failing. 

"  Yes,"  said  Leslie ;  "  yes  —  yes,  I  will.  My !  dear 
me !  I  never  thought  of  its  being  you." 

She  took  her  butter-pat  up  with  her  fork  as  she 
spoke  and  put  it  into  her  mouth.  She  seemed  discon- 
certed. 

But  Hugo  was  perfectly  composed,  at  all  events. 
He  took  out  his  pocket-book  and  looked  earnestly  in  it 
for  a  cigarette.  "May  I  smoke?"  he  asked;  "I've 
been  out  walking  for  an  hour."  He  was  very  cool. 
"  I  Ve  been  waiting  to  get  somewhere  where  I  could 
smoke,"  he  added. 

"Dear  me,"  said  Leslie,  pouring  chocolate  into 
her  glass  of  water,  "is  it  as  late  as  that?"  She 
did  n't  in  the  least  know  what  she  was  doing  or 
saying. 

"I  came  last  night,"  Hugo  said,  putting  up  his 
pocket-book  in  a  perfectly  collected  but  somewhat 
absent-minded  manner.  "Who  was  that  man  you 
were  sitting  with?" 

"Oh,"  said  Leslie,  turning  white  and  sick,  "were 
you  here  then?  He  's  German ;  he  's  a  Graf  —  that 's 
why  he  kissed  my  hand.  They  all  do  it  —  he  did  n't 
mean  anything."  She  became  quite  pitiful  to  see. 


AU  REVOIR  287 

Hugo  looked  around  the  room.  "Who  sent  you 
tke  violets?"  he  asked. 

"Oh  —  h  —  h,"  said  Leslie,  in  still  more  acute  woe, 
"  he  did.  But  they  don't  mean  anything  either.  No 
one  means  anything."  She  stopped  desperately,  and 
now  poured  a  little  water  into  her  chocolate  cup. 

"Who  was  the  Hussar? "  asked  Hugo,  taking  out  his 
card-case  and  looking  in  that  for  cigarettes  next. 

"He's  a  baron,"  said  Leslie  wretchedly.  "You 
know  every  son  of  a  baron  is  a  baron  here ;  it  does  n't 
mean  anything." 

Hugo  put  up  his  card-case  and  surveyed  the  room 
again. 

"Who  was  that  man  you  were  taking  tea  with  at 
the  Carlton  Saturday  week?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  my  goodness  me,"  said  Leslie,  clasping  her 
hands  in  misery  under  the  table,  "I  can't  remember. 
Truly  I  can't.  My  head  's  just  going  round  and 
round.  Who  did  tell  you?" 

"And  all  that  Kenelm  business,"  said  Hugo;  "it 's 
a  pretty  state  of  affairs  when  you  get  mixed  up  with 
detectives ! " 

"  But  I  did  n't  have  anything  to  do  with  it "  (she 
was  almost  weeping);  "nobody  can  help  being  looked 
up  if  anybody  wants  to  have  them  looked  up." 


288  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

Hugo  looked  thoughtfully  at  his  large,  handsome 
hands.  "  How  long  do  you  think  I  'm  going  to  stand 
this  kind  of  nonsense?"  he  asked;  "who  was  that 
fellow  that  went  out  to  Hammersmith  on  the  'bus 
with  you?" 

Leslie  gasped,  and  then  the  tears  started.  "Rita 
Coghlan  was  with  us,"  she  protested.  "I  never  do 
anything  that  I  should  n't,  and  I  'm  always  looking 
as  if  I  did.  Rita  was  with  us.  And  he  never  meant 
anything.  I  never  let  any  man  mean  anything." 

"Don't  you  ever  really  mean  to  marry  any  of 
them?"  Hugo  asked,  looking  directly  at  her. 

"N  —  no  —  no,  indeed,"  she  protested.  "Oh,  my 
gracious  me,  you  know  I  don't." 

Hugo  raised  his  eyebrows  and  surveyed  the  room 
some  more.  An  endless  period  of  time  then  passed 
slowly  along  into  eternity.  Leslie  tried  to  be  quiet, 
to  sit  still,  to  breathe  correctly.  But  all  of  a  sudden 
a  great  gasp  burst  from  her  lips.  She  raised  her  eyes 
to  Hugo's.  He  was  curiously  scarlet.  They  looked 
very  steadily  at  one  another.  There  was  another 
rather  long  silence.  Then  he  held  out  his  hand,  and 
she  got  up  slowly  and  came  around  the  table,  and 
laid  hers  in  it. 

"I  'm  going  to  cry,"  she  whispered;  "I  know  it." 


AU  REVOIR  289 

"Go  on  and  cry,  then,"  said  Hugo,  and  pulled  her 
down  on  his  knee.  She  buried  her  face  in  his  shoulder 
and  cried  quite  a  few  tears. 

"Feel  better  now?"  he  asked  after  a  while. 

"  Y  —  y  —  yes,"  she  said,  her  face  still  hidden. 

"That's  good,"  said  the  man.  "Well,  what  do 
you  say?  Shall  we  go  ahead  and  take  the  chance? 
I  'm  willing  if  you  are." 

"Oh  —  h  —  h,"  said  Leslie,  rather  melting  into  his 
collar;  "oh,  I  can't  believe  it." 

"  Why,  you  've  always  known  I  'd  marry  you 
some  time,"  said  Hugo;  "you  must  have  known 
that." 

"N  —  no,"  said  Leslie.    "I  never  felt  sure." 

"Well,  you  can  count  on  it  from  now  on,  because 
I  'm  going  to." 

Another  long  period,  this  time  of  great,  although 
largely  unintelligible  happiness  ensued.  Leslie  was 
ecstatically  beatific.  After  a  while  they  went  out 
and  walked  in  the  cheerless  Tiergarten,  and  she 
thought  the  statues  even  more  lovely  than  the  night 
before.  Hugo  wanted  to  go  to  lunch  "anywhere," 
but  Leslie  thought  that  they  ought  to  go  back  to  the 
Grafin,  who  would  be  done  with  the  threshing-machine 
by  this  time. 


290  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

"I  don't  see  why,"  said  the  man.  But  they  went 
back. 

The  Grafin  was  home  and  was  told.  She  proved  far 
from  enthusiastic.  "I  wanted  you  to  marry  Liebes- 
thal,"  she  said  to  Leslie  most  frankly.  "He  's  our 
oldest  friend  and  nearest  neighbor,  and  then  I  'd 
have  had  you  so  near.  You  must  have  seen  how 
anxious  we  were  to  bring  it  about." 

Leslie  was  amazed.  "But  what  things  you  said 
about  him ! "  she  said,  opening  her  eyes  widely. 
"Think  how  you  warned  me  against  him!" 

The  Grafin  patted  her  hand  and  smiled  faintly. 
"That  was  just  because  you  were  an  American,  my 
dear,"  she  said  in  a  sad  but  kindly  tone.  "You  see 
I  've  read  so  many  of  your  romances.  I  thought  that 
you  went  by  contraries  always,  so  we  tried  to  make 
him  attractive  to  you." 

"And  Baron  Dienstag?"  Leslie  asked,  with  a  tiny 
smile,  "what  of  him?" 

"Oh,  he  is  engaged,"  said  the  Grafin,  "it 's  a  secret, 
though.  Her  mother  was  a  Von  Wasserwein.  It 's 
such  a  nice  match  because  his  mother  was  a  Von 
Weinwasser,  —  the  two  old  rival  branches,  you  see?" 

"  Y  —  yes,  I  see,"  said  Leslie,  "  and  now  may  I  bring 
Mr.  Guilford  and  present  him?" 


AU  REVOIR  291 

"If  we  only  could  give  you  your  wedding,"  the 
Grafin  exclaimed  suddenly;  "how  charming  that 
would  be.  Couldn't  you  manage  that?" 

Leslie  was  deeply  touched.  "  But  he  has  n't  been 
in  Germany  long  enough,  nor  I  have  n't,  either." 

"Ach,  so,"  said  the  Grafin.  "No,  then  of  course 
you  can't." 

Hugo  came  in  and  was  presented.  He  kissed  the 
noble  lady's  hand  so  nicely  that  she  changed  her 
opinion  regarding  her  choice  for  Leslie  at  once. 

"After  you  're  married  you  must  come  and 
stay  with  us,"  she  said;  "you  can  hunt  with  my 
husband." 

"That  will  be  sport/'  said  Hugo  courteously. 
"We  '11  leave  for  London  to-night  and  be  with  you 
by  Thursday  week." 

"Oh,  —  oh,  my  —  oh,  my  goodness  me!"  cried 
Leslie.  "  I  can't  — " 

Hugo  looked  at  her. 

And  the  look  recalled  to  her  her  new  self  —  her  un- 
selfish new  self,  her  resolution  to  live  for  others,  to  fill 
the  future  with  happiness,  to  sacrifice  herself,  to  be 
brave  and  courageous,  and  to  love  greatly.  And  her 
spirit  rose  mightily  and  conquered.  And  they  left 
for  London  that  night. 


292  HOW  LESLIE  LOVED 

You  can  get  married  very  quickly  in  London,  —  in 
about  a  week,  I  believe.  Indeed,  I  am  assured  that 
a  residence  can  be  established  by  sending  your  lug- 
gage ahead  and  you  need  arrive  only  in  time  for  the 
ceremony. 


THE    END 


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